The Old Letters
by krossfire
Summary: Arnold accidentally found his grandparents' letters during World War Two while cleaning up the attic. Status: Complete.
1. Chapter 1: Fifth letter, First reply

_Preface:_ To be honest, I would call this as an experimental fanfic. I've given a lot of thought about this fic, whether to publish this or not. Well, I finally got the guts. This story was inspired from the World War Two movies I watched, videogames I played, and stories that I've listened from World War Two veterans that I've spent time with. And considering Grandpa Steely Phil was in the war, I thought, what the heck. It's entertaining and educational. IT'S EDUTAINMENT! I really did my homework when writing this, but as always, some of the contents written maybe historically inaccurate, made up, and dramatized a little bit. Hey, if Hollywood can do it, why can't I?

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**Legal junk: I don't own Hey Arnold, but Nickelodeon does and Mr. Craig Bartlett created it. But this fic belongs to me. Clear? Good.**

Chapter 1: The fifth letter, the first reply.

Arnold stood in front of the boarding house with his father, Miles. Ever since both of his parents were found near the Colombian border in Panama when he was eleven, he now stayed a couple of blocks away with them in a three-storey rowhouse near the boarding house. In today's visit both of the kin promised the boarding house's caretaker, the grandfather to Arnold and father to Miles, Phil, to help him clean up the attic, because it has been nearly five years since the place was last being spruced up. Arnold is now fourteen years old, just about three times younger than his father. He rang the doorbell, waiting for somebody to show up. And someone did, a short, in his late 30's, balding person showed up, goes by the name of Ernie Potts, one of the boarding house's tenants.

"Thank God you two finally showed up. The old man is inside the attic. And I tell ya, he's driving us nuts! He's been bugging us the whole day, asking when'll you guys going to show up."

"Glad to see you too, Ernie," Miles said.

"Yeah, yeah, my soap is on in just about a couple of seconds, you two know the way right?"

"Thanks, Mr. Potts." Arnold said with a smile. And the son and the father proceeded to the attic.

"Hey, dad." Miles said.

"Good afternoon, grandpa." Arnold greeted.

"Well, well, looks who's finally decided to show up," the old man said sardonically.

Phil stood up, placing his arms at his waist, "well, as you boys can see here, we've got a lot of work to do…" he was right; dust was everywhere, boxes of items were placed untidily, various items were scattered on the floor and messily on the shelf, and vermin droppings littered across the floor. Miles had that 'holy crap' look on his face while Arnold sighed heavily. "Why don't you ask the boarders to help, grandpa?"

"Those deadbeats? Phooey! Those people wouldn't help me out even if I paid them!"

"I'll help you for a hundred bucks, grandpa!" somebody said, it was Oskar, poking his head inside the attic.

"Over my dead body, Kokoshka!" grandpa said angrily, throwing a duster at him. Oskar managed to dart away from the projectile but unfortunately he misplaced his footstep and went tumbling down the stairs. Miles looked at his son, and Arnold looked at his father back. They both shook their heads, and walked off to each other's opposite direction. They started to work, and 45 minutes have passed. Arnold picked up a very old shoe box, while Miles grabbed the broom and began to sweep. The box was so old that it tore itself up when Arnold was carrying it, and the papers inside the box fell down, but surprisingly, still sturdy, although they were yellowed out due to aging. With a sigh, Arnold started to pick them out but then realized that those papers were letters.

Grandpa's World War Two letters to Gertrude, his wife, Miles' mother, and Arnold's grandmother. And also letters of Gertrude's replies.

"Hey, grandpa… I think I found something here…"

"You found gold? There's gold in our attic?!" grandpa said, with a trail of glee.

"Uh… no, I mean, this box… has something important, letters and stuff." Arnold replied back.

"What are you talking about, boy? What letters?" grandpa said back, becoming impatient. Miles paused at what he was doing, looking at them.

"Your letters to grandma, grandpa; back from World War Two."

"Ohhh, THOSE letters! Let me see those papers short-man…" Arnold went over to his grandfather and handed him the papers. "I haven't seen them since 1957! Ahh, memories from yore…"

"Can I read it?" he asked.

"Sure, I think we all deserve a break about now!" grandpa said. "Read it out aloud."

"Okay…" Arnold cleared his throat, and begins to read it. He was sitting on the floor, while grandpa was sitting on a stuffed taxidermy goat that Stinky had to given Arnold when they were in the sixth grade while Miles placed his chin on the end of the broomstick, still standing.

_August 9th, 1943___

_Dear Gertrude,_

_I have come to realize that you are not going to reply to my letters, all four of them, excluding this - which I doubt that you are going to reply anyway. If that's the case, consider this will be my final letter to you. How are things going? How's the war effort? The latest news from the hometown said that you've got a job as a weapons mechanic for the warships they constructed at the shipyard, like Cindy. Speaking of her, I hope both of you have finally get along fine with each other. I mean, we are all adults now, and the incident at the annual city dance should be forgotten, and shouldn't be dragged along. I know you are still bitter about it, but trust me; time will eventually heal it away._

_How do you like the job? Being a mechanic and all? I hope that you won't find the new job too difficult for you, since construction and mechanics is not entirely a woman's domain. How's your family? Is your father still annoys you as much as you think he is? Well, my advice is you should give him a chance, for I think deep inside, he is a good father, like most fathers are. And how is your mother's recovery from her illness? I hope she gets well soon._

"Grandma's mom was sick?"

"Yeah, she was recovering from the heart disease she had," grandpa clarified. Arnold then continues to read.

_I just finished my basic training and rumors says that we're off to __Italy__ tomorrow to fight the Germans in __Sicily__. Sounds like that they desperately need more men to help the boys there. I am now writing near a baseball field in the afternoon. My campmates are all here playing a game, before the 'graduation' night, so to speak, while I'm sitting on a bench feeling like an idiot. It's not like I hate baseball; I love it, but I feel like writing letters to my friends back home more, especially you, since, well, I miss you the most. I don't know why, but maybe not hearing your scowl for the past fourteen weeks can really drive me nuts. I miss it, a lot. Hopefully if I got home still alive and kicking, you will have the honors to be the first to mock me and push me around._

"Wait a minute… weren't you an assistant cook?" Arnold asked, lowering a half of his eyebrow.

"Dad… you told him that hogwash of a story?" Miles whined, disappointed. It was the same story that Phil had told Miles when he was eight.

"Hey, he was nine back when I told him that. I had to tell him a G-rated story." Phil said to his son.

"So... the whole Cham story is all a bunch of crock, huh, Grandpa?"

Oh, no, no. That Cham story is true."

"And you actually let grandma make fun of you?" Arnold snickered.

"Hey, it felt weird if I ain't listening to her scowls and sarcastic remarks for a day, let alone fourteen weeks,"

"Just like if your friend Helga didn't make fun of you for a day. It does feel weird, doesn't it?" Miles intervened; Arnold smiled back, and continues to read.

_Guess who I met at the training camp just recently, our old friend, Mike. Yeah, the guy who's been courting Marie Vitello since forever. He's in tip-top shape, good and ready but he's assigned to a different place, far away in the South Pacific, to fend off the Japanese. He's going to depart there on this coming Thursday. Tell Marie that he loves her. And much to my annoyance, he's with me sitting next to me right now, snickering and giggling at every word I've written. I would stab his eyes with this here pen, but I'm not going to send a letter with blood drops on it. Boy, his laughing annoys me to no end… yeah, with the Popeye cackle._

"Marie Vitello?"

"The same Vitello who owns the flower shop."

"Ohh, so that's her first name…"

_This concludes my letter, Gerthie. The boys are asking me to come out and be the batter. I am extremely hopeful that you will reply to my letter, like my family, and most of our friends did. I hope you will be strong and confident as always, and pray for us, The Allies will win this war. And please send my regards to Will, James, Margaret, Mae, Lisa, Marie and Diane._

_Best wishes,_

_Phil._

"Where are the other four letters, grandpa?"

"You know what, Arnold? I have no idea. But keep reading, read the next letter."

_August 27th, 1943___

_Hey, Chin-Boy,_

"Chin-boy?" Arnold said with a laugh.

"That's my nickname she gave me. Kinda like your 'football head' that girl Helga use to mock you."

_How's it going? Don't be such a diluted fool thinking why I'm sending you some silly ol' letter. I just got bored that's all, and for your information I am tired and I just got back from the shipyard installing some artillery guns on the warship. Twas easier that it looks, actually. My supervisor said they're going to sail the God blasted ship to the Pacific they say. So I got nothing to do, and there's nothing but updates about the war on the radio, so I thought to myself, what the heck. Since all of the other gals have already written letters to every Joe outside the country, I guess there's no harm in joining the fad. Well, to be honest I am slightly proud of you, since you've finally got the guts to actually enlist in the war rather than wasting your time at the canned food factory uptown._

_I got all your letters, but by now, you should've known pretty darn well why I'm not going to reply back. But ever since you've enlisted in the army yourself, you've earned a teensy bit of respect from me. You should be grateful for that, chin-boy._

"Man, she really does hate you, doesn't she, grandpa?" Arnold asked, smiling.

"Yeah… well… that was a long time ago, when we were young and full of youth."

_I feel the work here is tiring, and I sweat a lot too. Before coming back to home, my arms and face were always full grease, and I actually accidentally swallowed some oil along with it. I do get along with some of the gals here just fine, and they're all happy to help the cause. That skank Cindy is a total moron, she actually insisted on not helping or she'll break her nails. What kind of excuse is that? What a sap, people are dying out there for a noble cause and she just sits there and cares more about her nails? It's people like this I feel like going berserk and want to kill them all. Yes, I am still bitter about it, so never mention about that incident ever again._

_Dad got back into the army too, since the fellows at the Pentagon needed him for his experience in the First World War. That slob didn't do anything back home and when the government called he was up and ready and caught the first train to __Washington__. That's neglect, I tells ya. He doesn't care for his family at all. Always war this and war that. Don't get me wrong, wars are inevitable and necessary sometimes but is that a justifiable excuse to run away from your responsibilities to your family? Poor mother. But what about his family? What about us?_

_I assume that the people that you've written had already told their own story, so I won't bother to retell it here, except for my best friend Margaret, and Marie - since Mike asked for it. __Margaret just graduated from nursing school and was assigned to Sicily, Italy at some base there; maybe you could meet her. And if you met him, please send to her my regards. I miss her a lot, for she is my best friend since grade school. And please look after Margie Phil, I know she wouldn't last long if, God forbid, something terrible would happen to the base._

"Wow, grandma was really concerned about her."

Grandpa didn't answer, but had his head dangled, with a sad, melancholic look on his face. Arnold wanted to know what was wrong but his mind telling him that he shouldn't. At least not now. Arnold continued on.

_I know you don't want to hear anything about your sister Mitzy, good or bad news, but think I should anyway, just to spite you off. She went to New York to become an actress/supermodel but I have yet to see her pictures in the magazines. Well, that's what you get from not helping the war cause._

A chuckle was heard from Grandpa, "Heh, stupid Mitzy."

_Regarding Marie, she's still here of course along with Lisa, and they're at the arms factory making weapons for our boys. Oh well, at least there's someone here from the old gang can keep me company while all of you are at different corners of the world. And don't worry, I've told Marie, and she shouted some profanities when I told her about Mike. Better luck next time, Grand Canyon._

"Grand Canyon?"

"When Mike wrinkled his forehead, it would reallllly look like The Grand Canyon." Grandpa tried to expain it visually, with a grin. Arnold and Miles was amused.

_Well, chin-boy, I think I've reach the end of the line, as I have nothing to add as of now. But please do me a favor, keep on writing to me. Since you're ready to fight, I think it'll be the best for you to write so I would know you are still alive out there. I… actually has something to say, I do miss you. I miss your stupid looking chin and your stupid antics. I just hope that you won't be that stupid to get shot at right between the eyes. And thanks for that 4th of July postcard you sent to me. It was very sweet._

_P/S: If you met Craig somewhere out there, tell him he still owes me ten bucks for that rodeo ride._

_Best of luck,_

_Gertrude. _

"Boys, everyone, come down here and eat! I've baked pies for all of you!" grandma yelled from downstairs inside the kitchen.

"Ahh… your grandma's pie… nobody bakes better pie than her! Now come on now, and bring those letters with you!" grandpa said, inviting them to go with him.

"But grandpa, I don't think the boarders would like me reading these letters when they're dining…" Arnold tried to reason.

"And that's the whole point, short-man! With them out of the way we can have the whole pie to ourselves!"

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Well, that's that. I hope you enjoyed the fic, and I apologize if the fic somewhat manages to offend you in any way. Comments, reviews and constructive criticisms are welcomed and appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2: Letters and Pies

_Author's Note: _First of all, I'd like to thank you for the reviews. It encourages me a lot. Secondly, I'd like to apologize for not updating. No, I did not have author's block, it's just that I was proofreading the document a lot of times just to make sure it's free from flaws. I want the readers to enjoy my story as much as possible. Finally, I'd also like to apologize for giving Mrs. Vitello a first name. Why you ask? In the show, her first name was never mentioned, so I feel bad about it being inconsistent and all. It's just like giving Arnold a last name, and that's not right!

A correction from the previous chapter: _And if you met **her**, please send to her my regards._

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**Legal Junk: I don't own Hey Arnold, but Nickelodeon does and Mr. Craig Bartlett created it. But this fic belongs to me. Clear? Good.**

Chapter 2: Letters and Pies.

"Uh, I think my laundry is done. I think I'll go down and check them out." Mr. Hyunh said and leaves the room.

"Uhh… oh yeah… I need to call Lola. I mean, it has been a while you know." Ernie replied as he got up from his chair.

"I also have to call Lola, grandpa." Oskar promptly said.

"OSKAR!!" Suzie and Ernie yelled at him.

"What? I can't think up of any good excuse to run away from grandpa's boring war stories." Oskar tried to reason.

"Well, why don't you haul your lazy butt into our room and watch the babies for a change?" Suzie insisted. Their twin girls were born two years after Arnold moved out from the house. Oskar had become more responsible ever since their children were born, but he still slacks off from time to time. By responsible, he had acquired a real job as a saxophonist in a local jazz club thanks to Harvey. The pay's not great but was enough to support the whole family, plus the money that Suzie makes working at the grocery store. The twins were sleeping when Suzie left them to have lunch.

"Ehh…" he sighed, "okay Suzie…"

"So what? Go on, get! It's not like I care or anything." Grandpa yelled at them, as he watches Mr. Hyunh, Ernie and Oskar left the dining room.

_"Heh, heh… works like a charm." _Grandpa thought, with a smirk spreading across his face.

"Don't worry guys, I'll save some pies for you," Arnold said to the three men.

_"Goshdarnit Arnold! Why'd you have to be so thoughtful?"_

Everyone had left, except for Arnold's immediate family and Suzie in the dining room.

"Well, I for one am staying. Your war stories have always intrigues me, grandpa." Suzie said with interest.

_"Damn! I can't get rid of the girl! Oh well, better her than those deadbeats…"_

"So… what's your story about this time?" Suzie continued.

"Well, I think Arnold here can clear things up. Go on, short-man. Tell her," grandpa said with a mouthful of pie.

But Arnold was interrupted by his grandmother, enforcing discipline on her only son, "Miles, didn't I tell you not to play with your food?" grandma scolded as she slaps Miles' hand because he was poking his slice of the pie. Grandma's behavior had gradually become more normal ever since Arnold parents' were found.

Miles rolled his eyes, "Okay mom, okay… I'm sorry I played with my food."

Arnold looked at them for a moment with a smile, then he turned his head to Suzie, "Um, well… I found grandma and grandpa's letters that they sent during the Second World War. I thought it might be interesting to read from a first hand view, rather from the history books."

"Oh… I see. You know, my dad had always told me stories about when he was serving in the Korean War. I think it might be fascinating as well to hear yours, grandpa." Suzie replied as she cut her pie into half.

"Well, what are you waiting for, short-man? Read it."

_September 6th, 1943___

_Dear Gertie,_

_I am actually surprised that you're replying. I even stared at your envelope for minutes on end before opening it. Even as I'm writing right now I'm still in a state of disbelief. _

_Thank you so much for replying. _

_Your letter has certainly made my day more cheerful, in contrast of the morbid, somber look of the battlefield which I am in now. It has been nearly three days in this foxhole, and to kill time, I might as well write a letter here rather than waiting to get back to the base and write to you on my bunk._

_Upon arrival in __Sicily__, we were sent to a city which is now controlled by the Allies. You said that Margaret was here in __Sicily__, so during my break, I quickly went to the city hospital and asked whether if she's there, just to try my luck. She was working there, but unfortunately, she was just assigned to another hospital on the other side of the island, where I heard that we just gained victory there. The number of the wounded is high so I believe they are short-handed there and in desperate need of more nurses and doctors. If I was a day earlier, I would've met her._

Upon hearing the name Margaret, grandma was smiling proudly, in respect of her.

_I'm glad that you're actually enjoying the work that you're in. Rosie must've been a great motivator, huh? I apologize for my rather poor handwriting, because as I'm writing right now, my hands are trembling quite violently. We just had a minor skirmish with the enemy remnants and I was quite shocked at the turn of events. Writing, somewhat can help calming me down. Don't worry about me, I am fine._

"It was a minor skirmish that lasted about 20 minutes, if my feeble mind recall correctly." Grandpa rectified.

"Who's Rosie?" Suzie asked.

Grandma was quick to answer that question, "Folks called her Rosie the Riveter. She was an icon for us working girls back during the war. You could see her posters everywhere back in those days."

"Was she a real person?" Miles asked.

"Til' this day, I still don't know." Grandma replied. "Some said she's true, some said she ain't."

_Sicily__ is quite an interesting place actually. The place is absolutely beautiful and the locals here are very friendly and are very keen to help us out. They even gave us some authentic Sicilian food for free, which I am craving right now. Here's an interesting story that I want to share with you; I was in a Allied controlled city doing my patrol with a platoon buddy of mine where all of the sudden this old lady came to us and asked for our help. We were happy to help of course, but we felt that there was something peculiar with her. This platoon buddy of mine, who, bless him, knows how to speak Italian, told me that she found two bodies at her backyard while she was picking some firewood. Boy, was that a shocker!_

_I'm sorry to hear about your father Gerthie. But you have to understand sometimes that when our country needs our help, we have to oblige. I'm sure that your father does not forget about his responsibilities to his family. Remember the time when he brought you and your whole family to the Capital when you were nine? And after that you constantly bragged to us how good a father he was? That's something._

_That Mitzy will never learn, won't she? Enough about her, let's talk about our friends. My contact with Mike is lost now, so I don't know how am I supposed to tell him the rather unfortunate (or fortunate?) remark that Marie said. By the way, I thought he sent some letters to her? Anyway, from a letter that Mae sent to me she told that she and Diane went out to join some baseball league or something, is it true? And regarding James, what is he doing right now? Is he still working with that cartoon company producing propaganda newsreels? And what about Will?_

_Well, I'm done writing now, and coincidentally, our platoon's relief just arrived. I'm looking forward to a hot shower, eating real breakfast rather than these rations and sleeping on a bed. I apologize for the rather short letter I'm sending, because for the past few days there's nothing interesting to write about but the things that I've mention earlier, and I'm quite in a hurry right now. I'll end my letter with a quote from Winston Churchill that I just heard, it might be interesting: _

_"Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few."_

_Sincerely,_

_Phil._

"Wow, I'm impressed grandpa." Arnold said with a smile.

"Arnold dear," his grandmother interrupted, "just how many letters you found in the attic?" she inquired.

"I don't know; I haven't counted yet. I found them in a shoebox."

"Which means you've found it all, Arnold."

"Nice. Should I read the next one?"

"Yep, go right ahead," grandpa replied.

_September 27th 1943__,_

_Hey Phil,_

_Yeah, yeah, I replied to your letter, so what Chin-boy? Just don't get too comfortable about it. It's not like I'm going to reply to each and every letter you're sending, although, strangely I think that's what I am doing right now. Anyway, I'm disappointed that you haven't met her yet, but nevertheless I am relieved to hear that she's still out there and alive. I bet by time you are reading this, you've met her by now. Well, better watch your back out there, who knows there's still some Germans lingering about in that island waiting for a good opportunity to strike._

_Two dead bodies in the backyard huh? It is interesting I give you that. Were they soldiers, civilians or something other than those? This story should prove worthy of making Cindy sick to her stomach. I'll add some fabricated details more to make it more graphic. She can't stand hearing to this kind of story, because as you well know, she is very queasy. Hey, it might not be the best revenge ever, but just to see her face turn green would give me the satisfaction until I can think up a bigger, worser prank. _

Arnold noticed some trace of dried up teardrops over the paper on the next paragraph, washing the ink of some of the words away.

_Can we please stop talking about my father? I had enough of hearing that slob's name, so please never mention him in your letters again. I know he did take us for an outing, but that was a long time ago. He has changed significantly after that. He's a whole new person after he got back from the war, far from the caring, compassionate father that I used to know. It breaks my heart just the thought of it._

Grandma shook her head when hearing that line.

_The ship that I told you earlier is in her final stages and in its testing phase. The dang thing floated thankfully, but has yet to be christened with a name. I personally would love for it to be named USS Gertrude, after me. But, it's all a pipe dream I guess. They'll probably name the ship after a president, a city or an important general, not a commoner such as myself. Whatever works I guess._

"You wanted that ship you've been working on to be named after you grandma?" Arnold chuckled.

"That ship was a destroyer I think, and they did name it Gertrude!"

Arnold was shocked, "whoa, really? I don't recall of hearing any famous Gertrudes grandma."

"You're not good at history, aren't ya, short-man?" grandpa suddenly intervened.

"Gertrude was the name of this city founder's wife, Arnold." Miles quickly added. "Her full name was Gertrude… Gertrude…" he said while snapping his fingers, trying to remember the last name, "McPherson, I think."

"And you are correct, sir! 10 points for ya!" grandpa said jubilantly.

Suzie giggled at the joyful grandpa. Arnold was smiling at the sight, and continues to read.

_I know it has been God knows how long since you've left the neighborhood, so I'm going to tell you what has change and what has not in the neighborhood. Marie's mother has just opened a flower shop just nearby your house. She says that flowers are more profitable these days than a general store. The city council is planning to build a __new city__ park after the war is over. Personally I think they should concentrate more on providing spaces for the war effort than erecting a park named after the Mayor's wife. We live in a city governed by stupid bureaucrats, and that just ain't right. But on the bright side, it'll bring more green in this concrete jungle. And, rumor says they're going to build a giant aircraft factory at the outskirts of town, but I don't know when will they going to start building it._

"Giant aircraft factory?" Arnold asked.

"Our city lost the contract." Grandpa said, sighing. "A small town in Washington won it, I think."

"The one in Everett?" Miles asked.

"Yep," grandma replied, "just think what'll happen to our city if we won the contract."

"So what happened to that place now that the plan was scrapped?" Arnold asked.

Grandma, grandpa, Miles and Suzie said in unison, "Dinoland."

_Are you just illiterate or you can't read properly? If Mae and Diane said they're in a baseball team, then of course they're in a baseball team! They went out to join the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League representing our fair city. And so far, we're on a winning streak, thanks to 'Miraculous' Mae and 'Dashing' Diane. Just writing their nicknames they gained makes me cringe. Oh, Marie said to me that she never opened any of the letters that Mike sent, but she keeps all of it, though. _

_James no longer works for that animation company. Lisa said he quit the job and got enlisted in the Air force and now he's in some airbase in __New Mexico__ doing his basic training. He said to Lisa that he quitted his job because he became tired of it, and also he wants to be just like his hero, Buck Rogers. I actually laughed out loud when Lisa told me that. Some people just won't change, but in this case, won't grow up. Whatever makes him happy, I guess. And Will wanted to join the airborne infantry, but unfortunately he was physically unfit to join. So he went back to his old work at the local newspaper company, and what I've heard he was assigned with the Pacific Fleet to photograph pictures in that area. So if you saw any pictures about that particular place in the papers; that must've been his handiwork. _

_Well, that's about it. My hands are getting tired from writing this letter. Also, I need to prepare dinner for my family, since it's beginning to get dark here. I don't have any famous quotes to share, but I do have these words to say to you:_

_Stay sharp, and keep on fighting!_

_Sincerely,_

_Gertrude._

Grandpa suddenly felt some uneasiness in his stomach, "Ohh… my stomach… Pookie, this pie taste familiar… what kind did you bake?" he asked.

"I think it's raspberry," grandma replied, as she walked over to the sink.

"RASPBERRY?! Oh my God… excuse me, I have to go to the 'office' for a while…" he said, holding his stomach.

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And that's the end of Chapter Two. I hope you enjoyed it! Any views and comments? Write it in the reviews. To know more about_ The Allied victory in Sicily, Rosie the Riveter_ and _The All-American Girls Professional Baseball League_, visit the local library or search the internet!


	3. Chapter 3: Something Odd

_Author's note:_ New chapter is up, and this time around I hope this particular chapter is much relevant to the story than the previous one.

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**Legal Junk: I don't own Hey Arnold, but Nickeloedeon does and Mr. Craig Bartlett created it. But this fic belongs to me. Clear? Good.**

Chapter 3: Something odd.

Everybody in the room watches grandpa as he raced up to the bathroom. They can't help but to be amused by it. Miles had noticed something is amiss about his father for a long while, and thinking this was a great opportunity to ask, he turned his head at Gertrude to ask her regarding it.

"Mom, have you noticed there's something odd about dad lately?" Miles asked.

"Oh, thank goodness I'm not the only one; yes indeed, he has become a bit of a neat freak, and he helps me out a lot around the kitchen lately."

"Yeah, not only that, dad usually doesn't like to hear about his war stories, let alone talking about it."

"What are you talking about Miles, Arnold is doing all the storytelling here," Suzie said.

"Yeah, but don't you see, he's _letting _him, he wants us to know about his war experience. And that's not the usual dad that I know of."

"But he did tell us about that Cham story," Arnold added.

"Don't you remember what I said, Arnold? That story is a false one he made up. The real one is much worse." Miles clarified.

"Who told you all these?" his mother asked to inquire.

"A platoon buddy of his; forgot the guy's name, sadly." He said nonchalantly. "I met him at the airport, we exchanged some conversations, then he started to tell his war story, and things just took off out from there. Then I asked dad, he said yes. And I promised him not to tell anyone about it as long as he's still alive. If I really had to, I'd just have to tell the fake one. It's a promise that I tend to keep."

"Gracious me, and I'm the man's wife; he never told me any of his war stories before. Well, aside of course from the letters he sent to me during the war."

Arnold felt he had no place to talk with them, so he excused himself from the table, bringing the letters with him to the living room. Curiosity envelops him, as he wanted to know more about his grandparents' past. In the living room, he could still hear chatters from the dining room about his grandfather, although indistinctly. The sound that came from the television from the next room didn't help either as he wanted to be in complete solitude. He took a seat and began to read another set of the letters.

_December 12th 1943_

_Dear Gertrude,_

_I'd like to apologize for not replying to you sooner, as I was very busy in the last several weeks and couldn't seem to find the time to write at all. I also couldn't write a letter out because my Captain issued an order not to write until further notice. Maybe he wanted us to concentrate more on the frontlines than our family back home. It doesn't help either that my platoon fellas are getting jealous because I received so many "Dear John" letters. "Dear John" letters are what we call letters that we received from the broads back home. I told them many times that most of the letters I received are from my friends, nothing more, but that doesn't convince them though. _

_I guess that I won't be back for Christmas sadly, due to the fact that we still have a war to fight. But there is a bright side to it. My regiment and I are now in England to further our training and to assist fresh new recruits that just graduated from boot camp. They will replace us in Italy. Guess what? I just got promoted to Private First Class. We heard rumors the all these preparations are for what can be described as the --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------. They haven't told us yet when will -------------------------------------------------------------. I have already written a letter to my parents about it, and I guess they must be devastated to hear that their son won't be back for home for the joyous season of the year._

The letter was censored. Grandpa must've written something important that would jeopardize the Allied plans, if it were fallen to the wrong hands. _"Well, at least he didn't lie about his rank." _Arnold thought.

_To tell you the truth, I'm glad that we're in England now, rather at the frontlines in Italy. We were stationed in the countryside near some town called ---------. Everything is calm and peaceful here, with the exception of the hoots and hollers from the men and drill sergeants that comes up every now and then from the training field nearby. It is so peaceful to the point that we actually forget that we are in war. Last week during the weekends I even took the time off to wander around town to clear my mind, rather than joining the guys at the local bar. From time to time, we had some 'friendly' competitions with our British counterparts during our break, such as playing cards, throwing darts, hold drinking games and playing their version of football._

_Most of the British guys I've met are friendly, with exception of one: my nemesis that I've known since my childhood, Rex Smythe-Higgins. And I thought that idiot is off my back forever ever since he moved back to England years ago. Well, it's expected I guess to see him here, now that I'm in England and all. Good God, I hate that man with a passion. He's the most arrogant, snobbish, untrustworthy, egoistical person I've ever met in my entire life. I even had a scuffle with him earlier today due to the most trivial things and he blamed it on me. Can you imagine that? If he was the enemy I would've shoot him sooner. He's in the British Armored Division, driving them tanks._

"Man, even during the war they hated each other." Arnold said to himself in disbelief.

_I got my first impression of London a week ago when we first arrived there. We've heard it all on the radio and the newspapers, and indeed it was devastating. The Blitz destroyed almost everything and anything in sight. As the truck we were riding drove us through the city, we could see the aftermath of the bombings. The smell of death still lingers in the air. Buildings destroyed, burnt to the ground and crumbled down, like a cookie. People lined up to get food and clothes from the nearest aid station. I asked one of the locals, her home was destroyed and she had to take her kids to shelter in the subway. I felt so miserable when I listened to her. She then broke down crying, and to show sympathy I offered her my rations, just to lessen her misery. Some of the reconstruction work is being done, to show the enemy that their morale is still high, in spite of the devastation._

Arnold's eyes were brimming in tears when he read that. It was hard to imagine what would happen to him if he were in that situation.

_Yes, I finally found Margaret a few weeks after I wrote my last letter to you. She was weary from all the work she had done, but dandy nevertheless. She told me she had to go to England to help the wounded civilians there, since there's a shortage of docs in England because most of them are in the warzones all across the world. After that brief moment with her, I never heard from her again since that. She should be safe here in the British Isle, so don't worry about her much. I swear I will look after her. And as for our other friends, I'm glad that they've find something to contribute. Heh, you and Cindy can be so childish sometimes._

_Please don't stop writing, Gerthie. Your letters actually keep my spirits soar, my morale high and it brings comfort. I don't know why, but the letters from my family doesn't work like that, though I am glad they sent to me. Maybe you have something special, deep down inside, like a gift maybe. Well, I'm off to the mess hall now, because I am very hungry. And I heard they're making raspberry pie today. My favorite pie of them all. I know it'll be late by the time this letter reaches your grasp, so have a Merry belated Christmas. I would've sent you a card, but I think this letter should be more than enough. _

_P/S: I've met your brother Craig; he'll pay you the money after the war is over. He's off to Italy in the next two weeks to replace our regiment. And those bodies were the German SS units. _

_Sincerely yours,_

_Phil._

"Grandma has a brother?"

Even after reading that rather lengthy letter, the conversation in the dining room was still going strong; and so does the shouts coming from the next room. Arnold assumed that Mr. Hyunh, Oskar and Ernie are watching a daytime talk show. Grandpa still hadn't come out from the bathroom. Feeling that he got nothing better to do, since he hated daytime television and less than enthusiastic to join in the conversation with the individuals at the dining room, he continued to read the letters. To make himself comfortable, he lied on the couch, as he read the letters. He also noticed that like the previous letter that his grandmother wrote, this particular one also had some trace of dried up teardrops on the paper's surface.

_February 2nd 1944,_

_Dear Phil,_

_I'm afraid I have terrible news to tell. I am crying as I'm writing this down. It's just I couldn't accept the fact that my best friend Margaret died. The War Department's telegram said her ship was brought down by an enemy mine during her voyage to England. I was informed through her sister, who was working at my usual lunch hangout. I broke down crying when I listened to the terrible news, and my supervisor even let me took the rest of the day off. Marie, Lisa, heck, even Cindy came to me and tried to console me. It's amazing, even the worst of rivals can be __friends when tragedy strikes, Cindy and me. Her funeral service was held last week and I was one of the first to attend. I saw her parents were so miserable when the service was conducted. I symphatized her mother the most, she was wailing in grief throughout the service. May Margaret, my best friend, rest in peace._

"Oh my God…" Arnold said quietly in shock. "No wonder Grandpa looked sad when I read that first letter. He broke his own promise."

_This paragraph and its latter is written a few days after the first one, because I was too sad to write anything after that. I even put a block of wood (which I usually use as a paperweight) over the said paragraph right now just to make sure that I'm not going to read it. I was quite taken aback when I received your last letter Phil; because it was the first time I see your letter got censored. But yours are still tolerable to read, in contrast of my brother's letter. They blacked it out and even cut it up like a Swiss cheese to the point even myself can't bare to read it. I wonder why they even bother doing it; it's not like it going to fall on the enemy's hands anyway._

_ I'd like to congratulate you on being a Private First-Class. Does that mean you can boss people around now? Asking the boys on the lower ranks to fetch you coffee or something? And if you really want to make me proud, go up to the ranks of Sergeant, then we talk._

_You call us childish? Speak for yourself. You and Rex had been bitter way before me and Cindy started to hate each other. Remember that stupid Tour de Pond competition when we were nine years old? The one where you actually lost the race fair and square? You couldn't accept the result, and instead of appealing to the judges you went over to him and punch him right in the nose! No wonder they dismissed you and declared him as the winner. At least Cindy and I didn't argue about the most trivial of things. Well, after the funeral, we did had a chat at the diner where Margie's sister is working, and suffice it to say, it was constructive and, I can't believe I'm saying this, we actually enjoyed each other's company. _

_For shame chin-boy. If Cindy and I can get along together, why can't you and Rex? What will your kids and grandchildren say about it?_

Arnold chuckled at that, "Well grandma, I'd say grandpa was right all along, Rex did cheat. And he _is _a jerk." he said to the letter, as if he was replying to his grandmother.

_Don't be bothered the snide remarks that your platoon buddies said. They're just jealous that they haven't received any letters from the girls they are missing. And by the way, if you pretend by saying me being your girlfriend or something, I swear when you get back home, I will pummel you so hard that you will begging the War Department to send you back to the frontlines. Don't think this as an idle threat either, because I will do it. And don't think that I wouldn't know about it too, since I have 'someone' in the army, and he is watching everything that you do. Do not forget about it._

"Wow, grandma was just as mean as Helga when she was young."

_Well, Christmas wasn't so jolly this time around, with Craig is still out there and my mother is getting worried sick about him. The Christmas tree in the living room still hasn't been thrown out, since mom decided to keep it there until Craig gets back. It kind of depresses me actually, with its ferns starting to turn brown and falls off to the ground making a mess. I tried to talk my mom out to throw it away, but she just wouldn't listen. I can't blame her for that, for I too miss the little guy a lot. Dad is away in Washington, but I never seemed to miss him like I miss my brother, probably because my brother is not as big of a jerk like my father is. Actually, I don't miss my father at all. _

_The New Years was also quite somber, there weren't any parties to go and to celebrate at all. In each and everyone's mind, there's only one thing they can think of, the war. Just for the heck of it, and to clear my mind from it, I spent the night during the New Year's Eve with Lisa and Marie at the local swing club. Some stupid out of town sailors and army men tried to flirt with us, but as always, I answered them with a punch on their stomach. Lisa had a ball, but I don't know about Marie though, she seemed upset. _

_Well, Phil. It seems that you've done a darn good job of making me keeping writing letters to you. I should've stopped writing to you months ago, but my gut instincts tell me that I should go on. Maybe you have that kind of charm with the ladies, maybe that's probably why your guys are so jealous of you. Well, in your own words, deep down inside, you do have something special._

"Hmm… Grandma's letters are getting pretty more friendlier and less sarcastic as time goes by." He thought.

_Sincerely,_

_Gertrude._

"Arnold? There you are. I've been looking all over for you," Miles said as he entered the living room. "What've you been doing? Napping?"

"Huh, what?" he startled, "Oh… no dad. I was just reading these letters." He clarified.

"Well, let's go back to the attic. Our work there is still not done."

"Yeah, okay, sure." He nodded. He then got up from the couch and followed his father to the attic. Phil was already inside waiting for them.

"You bunch of slackers. In the old days there was no such thing as taking a break; we would do our job diligently until the sun sets!" Grandpa scolded jokingly.

_"You were the one who suggested to us to take five, dad…" _Miles thought, but he won't argue with him since he knew that he was joking.

They then quickly went to work again. After more than twenty minutes, everything was clean and tidy. The three of them scanned around the attic, proud of the job well done.

"I've never seen this place so clean before, thanks to you boys," he said with a smile to his son and grandson, "AND NO THANKS TO THOSE THREE BUMS DOWNSTAIRS!" Phil shouted loudly from the attic.

"Thanks dad. We should head back home now, it's getting late." Miles said. Phil was surprised, "what, and eat your dinner at home? No offence, but your wife's a terrible cook. Come on; wait for a while for yer mother to finish cooking dinner."

"Uh… thanks, but no thanks dad. I'll just have what Stella makes for dinner today."

"Well, suit yourself. How 'bout you short-man?"

Arnold was reluctant to answer that. Grandpa's words did have some merits in it, but then again he doesn't want to disappoint his mother. "I… I think I just have dinner at home."

"You're making your grandma sad short-man. Hey, wait a sec, that means more food for me!"

Miles and Arnold grinned pathetically when hearing that. Grandpa then put his hands around their shoulder, and walked them to the front door. As they went pass the living room, Arnold saw the letters he was reading earlier lying on the coffee table.

"Oh, crap! Grandpa, I forgot to give you back the letters."

"Oh yeah, about that. You can keep it Arnold."

"Huh? Why would I need those letters for? Sell it on EBay?"

"I dunno, just keep it. It might be useful someday. You could use it as a reference or something."

"But, grandpa…"

"No buts," grandpa cut him, "just take it. It's not like I'm going to read it again anyway. Think of it as a history book."

He nodded, but still puzzled at his grandfather's decision.

* * *

And that's the end of Chapter 3: Stay tuned for more.


	4. Chapter 4: Upon Further Reading

_Author's note: _All comments will be noted and taken seriously, as to improve my writing more. Thanks all! Fourth Chapter is up, and if there's any mistakes or errors, please point it out. :)

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**Legal junk: I don't own Hey Arnold, but Nickelodeon does and Mr. Craig Bartlett created it. But this fic belongs to me. Clear? Good.  
  
**Chapter 4: Upon further reading.

The three-storey home that houses Arnold's family was one of the most beautiful houses on the block. Coated in whitish-cream, with flowers blooming at the front of the house with a brown picket-fence guarding it, it was _the_ dream house purchased by his parents. Never in their whole married life have they ever thought of wanting to live in a dull, sleepy suburb some 10 miles away from the city to raise a family, since this place held some nostalgia values to them, especially to Miles and Arnold. Almost everything about the house resembled quite eerie to that of Helga's house, minus the paint job. When they first moved into there, Arnold felt weird about it, because he would be worried that Helga might greeted him when he entered the house. It had been three years now, but he had kicked the habit out.

"Honey, we're home." Miles announced as they entered the house. "Hi mom," Arnold greeted. "He then went straight to his room.

"Hey, sweetie." Stella replied. "How was at your parents'?" she was in the living room, watching a rerun of _Oprah_.

"Meh, as always." He said nonchalantly as he walked in. "I did have an interesting conversation with mom, though."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, something about dad. I'm kinda worry about him." he said with a concern. "Hey, is that _Oprah_?"

"Yeah, and this time around I won't let you change the channel! Now come here and watch the show with me, 'cause they've invited some expert on the show and they're talking about on what married couples can do to further enhance the communications between themselves, so, namely us." She informed, hoping for a positive feedback.

"But honey, come on! Can we just watch ESPN together? I'm sure it'll improve our communications better rather than taking an advice from some bald loser who has no idea on what married life is actually about."

Stella gave him an angry glare, thus instantaneously making Miles cower. "Shutting up, watching _Oprah_." He said scarily.

Arnold's room in that house, in everyway almost similar to that of his in the boarding house, minus the skylight, the bed attached with the cabinet and the revolving couch. He missed the skylight the most, because that was the only thing that stands out from his friends' room and made it very unique. Grandpa had always welcomed him to stay in his old room, since his room in the boarding house was still left intact. Only in few occasions Arnold did went there to stay overnight, such as when grandma cooked his favorite food. He put the letters next to his computer, but had no interest to read it. Instead, he booted the monitor up (he left the computer on because he was downloading something) and started to play a World War II shooting game.

After around an hour and a half, he got bored with it, and quitted the game. He then checked the download progress, only 13.37% left. Dissapointed at the progress, he leaned back against the chair with his arms crossed behind his head. He then looked at his grandparents' letter.

_"Eh…What the heck…" _

He grabbed it and starts to read.

_February 28th 1944,_

_Dear Gertrude,_

_I'd like to offer you my sincerest condolences to you and to Margaret's family. I'm sorry I didn't know sooner that she died. Also I'd like to apologize to you that I broke my promise to you. I reiterated to you many, many times that I will take care of her, but I failed. I was my fault. Actually, it was not by her own will that she wanted to go to England. For you see, I was the one who told her to go to there in fearing that she could get hurt in the Italian offensive since things were started to get extremely messy there. In reluctance, she agreed and took the very first ship on the next day. Unfortunately, she and I weren't aware that the Mediterranean was heavily mined. I sounded like I was running away from my responsibilities. God, I was so stupid. It was my own stupidity that cost her life. I am so, so sorry. Please forgive me. _

Arnold was stunned reading that.

_Margaret was a great person. She was bright, smart, beautiful, fun, and intelligent girl. I believe sincerely that she was absolutely glad to be your best friend. She was your voice of reason, a good friend to hang around with, and she was always there for you. Remember the time when she defended you that you're not a thief when you were accused of stealing clothes at a boutique in the neighborhood? And the time we and the gang went to the carnival and she bought ice-cream for all of us, and she won Robby a stuffed toy instead of him winning her one? We all have great memories with her. We all do. Speaking of Robby Fisher though, I couldn't imagine how he would accept the news that the fact his fiancée died. Poor guy. I know he's my rival in Chinese checkers and all, but checkers are trivial and stupid when it comes to a death of a friend._

"Arnold!" his mother shouted from downstairs. "Dinner's ready!"

"Coming!" he shouted back.

_Well, I'm still in England doing my training, and we still don't know where are we going to ship to. Word on the streets is that we're either heading to ------- or to ------. But the only thing we can do now is speculate. And it has even driven some of my platoon guys nuts. Even my captain sent them to see the psychiatrist just to make sure they are okay. Myself, on the other hand, are quite nervous too, but never near the breaking point._

_I'll just end my letter here because I'm still feeling guilty about Margaret's death. I would write more, but each and every word I've written is worsening my guilt. If you don't want to reply to my letter anymore, well, that's very understandable. I bid farewell and adieu to you. Again, I'm sorry._

_Sincerest apologies,_

_Phil_

"Arnold?!" his mother called again.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" he replied. He then put the letters next to the keyboard, and then he finally came down to the dining room. On the table, it was the special of the day, liver and onions.

_"Aw man… not again… I should've stayed at the boarding house for dinner…"__  
_

He cringed. But then he saw his mother smiling at him, as if she was proud of her cooking. He gave her a smile back weakly, and proceeded to sit down. Arnold and Miles forced themselves to chew, munch and swallow the rather bland dinner with a soft smile on their faces as to conceal their real thoughts from Stella.

"Well, if you guys thought my cooking is _that _bad, just say it." She said, as if she had already known.

In unison, but not in synchronize; Miles and Arnold replied to her with some throwaway comments, such as "No… it's really great." "Delicious." "It's good." "Best dinner ever." "I would want some more." "Yummy."

"Yeah, right." Stella was not convinced, but still smiling nevertheless.

The dinner table became silent again, with the exception of the clattering noises coming from the spoon, fork and the plate.

"Hey dad," Arnold broke the silence, "Have you ever been in a battlefield before? I mean, after Vietnam, have you?" he asked, which struck his father as odd.

"Well… no. I tried to avoid it since Vietnam gives me a lot of bad memories," He replied. "Though, my editor wanted to send me Iraq to cover about the post-war, I turned the offer down. After Vietnam and that hullabaloo in Central America, I'm sticking to writing articles about old western civilizations now. There is no way I'm ever going back to a battlefield." Prior becoming an archeologist/journalist for _National Geographic_, Miles got drafted in Vietnam and worked as an archeologist for a local museum. "Why you ask?"

"Nothing, really. Grandpa's letters must've got into me so much that they keep playing in my mind again and again. It's all about war now in my head."

"You're still thinking about the letters?"

"What letters?" Stella intervened.

"Grandpa gave me letters that he sent to grandma during World War Two for me to keep. I still don't understand why did he give me those. Weird."

"What's weirder is that he never told anyone except mom about his war stories. If he did, he'd told a fake one. And what I've seen today, he looks like as if he doesn't even care about it." Miles added.

"Strange indeed…" Stella said, quizzically. "Maybe he wanted to prove something."

"Could be." Miles replied.

"Well, I'm done. Thanks for the dinner, mom." And Arnold got up.

"Ah-hah, not so fast there young man," Stella scolded. "Go and do your own dishes."

Arnold gave an embarrassed smile, "sorry," he apologized.

"This household is not like the boarding house, Arnold. Grandma's not here to do it for you. In this house you do your own dishes, is that clear, mister?"

"Yes, ma'am." Arnold nodded.

"And you, honey," she pointed her fork at Miles, "you also do your own dishes."

"Crap, and I thought being your husband has given me special privileges."

"Well, you will get your 'special privileges' tonight at bed," Stella winked with a flirting voice.

That little remark that his mother said freaked and shuddered Arnold a little bit, "Umm… eww. In case both of you still haven't noticed, I'm still here." He said as he placed his washed plate on the tray.

"Well if you didn't want to get freaked out more, I'd suggest you to immediately remove yourself from the dining room." Miles said with a smirk, and with that, Arnold hastily exited from the dining room.

_"God, everyone in the family is acting weird nowadays…" _he thought, as he walked over to his room, thinking maybe the download had completed.

"95.6%…" he muttered disappointingly, "anytime now…"

The letters next to keyboard were as if inviting him to read them. He rolled his eyes, and read the next one. It seemed that he'd love to read it in a chronological order.

_March 26th 1944,_

_Dear Phil,_

_You last letter at first outraged me that the fact I thought you're actually the reason why she died. Even though letter was short, I can't even bear to read the first paragraph to the end because I was so furious at you. I then threw it in the wastepaper basket, but a couple of days later, I thought that I was being too harsh, so I dug the basket up and searched for your letter. Reading it again, well, it's not your fault. I'm impressed that you are being honest about it, and I can understand why did you asked her to go to England. You really were concerned and worried about her. It's pretty reasonable, since its war after all and everyone is worried. You did look after her._

_Margaret was a great person. She was a great friend and a great companion. I want her to live in my memory until the day I die. I miss her so much. You know, I first met her when I was alone on the school grounds eating my lunch. She just happened to walk pass me on that day and saw me eating alone with no one to accompany me. She then came over to me and wondered if she could join me. I said yes, and we became close friends ever since. I did send her letters, and like you, she also replied to me once in a while. Her last letter said that she missed her home, family and friends (especially me.) I wish I could apologize to her for all the fights we used to have. Hey, even the best of friends quarreled sometimes. Don't be guilty about her death, Phil. She's at a better place now, looking at us with a smile on her face. _

Arnold smiled softly.

_Like everyone else Robby received the news with great disbelief. He tried to take the news like a man, but he couldn't and wept instantly. I feel sorry for the poor guy, because he and Margaret had outlined their plans even before Margie had gone overseas. So because of his fiancée unexpected death, he has nothing now. After the funeral he isolated himself inside his room from everyone, without drinking or eating, and not going to his job even. What's more worse, days after that his mother went to check up on him but he wasn't in his room. He was suddenly gone, but he had left a note. It says that he won't come back until his 'personal business' is done. We were all shocked at that. Soonafter, the whole neighborhood did a search party, and his parents even went to the Army Recruitment Office to check if he had registered but they couldn't find his name. His family hopes that he would return eventually someday._

"Well… thankfully he's still alive. I wonder who he got married with?" Arnold asked himself.

_Hey, guess what? Looks like Mae and Diane and the rest of their baseball team actually managed to bring our city to the quarterfinals. Just a few days ago, the whole team went to meet the Mayor so he could congratulate them for the great job they are doing for the city. Mostly every one of them is now being sought by magazine photographers to grace the front covers of the magazines they are working with. And if Mitzy were looking at those pictures of them on the cover, she must've regretted her decision of ever going to New York, because I still haven't seen her pictures on any magazines yet. Oh, the quarterfinals are scheduled to play on the 29th of March here, so I'll tell you the score once game is over. And thanks to Diane; me, Lisa, Marie and Cindy got the tickets to the front seats at the ballpark._

_As for you, things will start to get better hopefully, and sooner or later, they have to eventually reveal what the fuss is all about. You have my word on it, Phil. And keep writing to me, it seems like I've grown to like reading your letters. Together with this letter I send to you a jar of cookies that I made. Don't ask why, I just felt like baking it._

_No apologies necessary,_

_Gertrude._

That letter was the first one without the word 'chin-boy'. Indeed, grandma did become friendlier, heck she even sent him cookies. He then glanced at the monitor, 3.1% left. He then put the letters aside, and opened _Solitaire _as he waited for the download to finish.

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And so ends Chapter Four. Chapter Five will be up when its done.  



	5. Chapter 5: The Confessions

Author's note: Fifth Chapter is up, but I'm not very pleased with it, because I can't write a "love" letter even if I tried.

* * *

**Legal junk: I don't own Hey Arnold, but Nickelodeon does and Mr. Craig Bartlett created it. But this fic belongs to me. Clear? Good.**

Chapter 5: The Confessions.

It had been four weeks since Arnold found the letters, which were now in a drawer collecting dust. He didn't know what to do with it, until today. In school, his history teacher assigned the students to research about any major events that had occurred throughout human history. Of course, Arnold had a grandfather who fought in the Second World War, so he decided to use the letters as a reference. He was walking from school with Gerald, discussing about the assignment.

"So you have any ideas about the assignment?" Arnold asked Gerald.

"As of now, the only thing I can think of is researching about the Vietnam War. I'm pretty sure dad has a lot of stories to tell for me to use as reference."

"Didn't he already tell us when we went to the Washington during Veterans Day some five years ago?"

"I'm sure there's more than that, man. I mean, come on, my old man stayed in Vietnam for many months for crying out loud, there's got to be something."

Arnold nodded in understand, as they continued walking.

"How 'bout you man? What are you planning to report on?" it was Gerald's turn to ask.

"World War Two." Arnold replied it short.

"About your grandpa, huh?" Gerald said with a smile.

"Yeah, not only that, World War Two is my favorite subject to study in History. There's so much we can learn about it: like the Pacific Theatre, The Blitzkrieg, D-Day, The Battle of Britain, Midway Islands, The Invasion of Malaya…"

"Yeah, yeah I hear ya man," Gerald cut him, "Say, how come you're not choosing the Vietnam War too? Your dad served in that war, and unlike my pop, he saw action."

"Yeah, I know Gerald. But like I said, World War Two is my favorite subject." Arnold said with a smile.

Gerald smiled back at Arnold's remark, and then he intentionally averted the conversation to a more casual one, "so wanna go and play baseball at the park with the guys at five?"

"Maybe. I'll be with you guys, just as soon I'm done finding some points of reference for my assignment."

Gerald shook his head upon hearing that, "Man oh man, always with the homework first aren't you? Well, suit yourself; I ain't going to argue with you." And they finally arrived at Arnold's house.

"Man, after all these years your house is still giving me the willies." Gerald shuddered.

"What? Just because it resembles Helga's house?" Arnold asked.

"Well, yeah – to a certain point."

"Whatever man, see you later." Arnold said. They then did their handshake, and parted. Nobody was inside the house, since his parents were still at work, except for his pet pig, Abner.

"Hey, boy. How're you doing? He said as he petted the animal. "Hungry, aren't ya?"

He then went to the kitchen, with Abner following him from behind. He went to a cabinet and took a can of pet food out and poured it into a bowl. Abner then sprinted to it and starts to eat it vigorously. Arnold couldn't help but to smile at the little pig.

"If you need anything, just squeal." But that didn't garner any respond from Abner, as he kept munching the food. "I'll be upstairs, okay boy?"

Arnold went to his room, threw his bag on the bed and sat at the study table. He took out the letters from the drawer and a highlighter from the pen holder, which resembled like a mug with the words 'I bought this mug so I could put stationery in it' written across it. As he was about to highlight the date, he stopped, thinking that he should preserve the letters in its current state. He snapped the cap back on, took a new paper and a pen out so he could write down any interesting points he found on the letter.

_June 5th 1944,_

Arnold widened his eyes upon reading the date.

"The eve of D-Day…" he said under his breath.

_Dear Gertrude,_

_This may be my last letter to you. Everybody in the camp feels the same way as I am: brave, scared, queasy, all rolled into one because we've finally been briefed by our Captains and Colonels about the location that they've been keeping a secret from us. We were supposed to go yesterday, but by some reason, it didn't go well as planned. By the sheer value of it, we all know that some of us will not make it out alive. I can't tell it, but I believe by tomorrow it'll on the front pages of every newspapers in the States. Please, pray for me that I will make it out alive from this ordeal. I hope you could read this sorry excuse for a handwriting because I'm trembling in fear as I'm writing this letter down. Nevertheless, it doesn't seem to dim my spirits at all._

Judging by the letter's date and grandpa's feeling in the letter, Arnold assumed that grandpa actually took part in D-Day, the single most largest landing operation in World War Two. "Heh… wow…grandpa… wow…" he chuckled in disbelief as well in astonishment. He couldn't be more proud of his grandfather.

_I don't know how should I put it, but I'm going to say it just so it'll clear off my chest. Ever since grade school, I couldn't help but to be thinking about you. Even though you are tough and hardened outside, but deep down inside you, I can feel it, I see a completely different you. A person who is actually considerate, nice, caring, compassionate, thoughtful, good hearted person… well, I could go on and on forever. Please don't lie to me Gerthie, because you've shown your caring side to me on your previous letters, so any denial you will say is moot. I was right, at least I think I was right; your aggressive behavior is just a concealment of your soft side, which I have grown to adore._

"Okay… this is déjà vu…" he said with puzzlement.

_Yes, adore. For you see, even though you scowled, threatened, mocked, insulted me over the years past I never feel intimidated by it, not by a single bit, because I knew you were just hiding your real feelings away from me. Maybe because of that I see a more vulnerable you, which I want to help. Maybe that's why I care a lot about you. I might be wrong and have no right to judge you this way, but this is the way I feel about you. I'm sorry if I offended you in such way. Whether you've noticed it or not, I've seen you indirectly helped a lot of people, and by golly it makes me feel happy just seeing you in that kind of way, not to mention that it actually makes my assumption sounds valid._

_In these anxious times, I tried to think about you because firstly, just the thought of you makes me calm and secondly, I miss you dearly. I admit, over the past years I'm actually beginning to grown to like you. I now no longer skeptical and doubt about my feelings, because I am more than ever confident about my actual thoughts about you. You are more than a friend, Gerthie. You're the best companion that I've ever had in my entire life, even after all the lowdown, dirty things you done or said to me…_

_I think that I am in love with you._

Arnold held the letter away in shock, lost on words to say anything. "So this is where grandpa confessed…" he finally said.

_The whistle has been blown; everyone is getting up from their seats while I'm still here at the postmaster's office. I shouldn't be here anyway, since I snuck out from the field just to get here to write a letter. I must be crazy to even think of doing this. Heh, maybe that's the jitter talk. Pray for me, Gertrude. _

_Phil._

Grandpa also sent his _Eisenhower's address to the Allied troops_ letter to grandma:

_SUPREME HEADQUARTERS ALLIED EXPEDITIONARY FORCE_

_Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force!_

_You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world. _

_Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle-hardened. He will fight savagely. _

_But this is the year 1944! Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our Home Fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men. The tide has turned! The free men of the world are marching together to Victory! _

_I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full Victory! _

_Good Luck! And let us all beseech the blessing of Al-mighty God upon this great and noble undertaking._

_Dwight Eisenhower._

"Wow grandpa… you never ceased to amaze me," Arnold said with a chuckle as he put the letters aside. "And the Eisenhower's letter is one valuable piece too. Now let's see what grandma's reaction to this…"

_June 6th 1944,_

"June 6th 1944?" Arnold read it aloud in confusion, _"how come the letters are a day apart?"_

_Dearest Phil,_

_Just now, a coworker of mine handed me the today's newspaper, and suffice it to say, I am worried about the outcome of today's events. I'm writing this letter at lunch right now. So that's the thing that your Generals, Captains or whatever has been keeping it a secret from all of you. An armada of 3,000 landing craft, 2,500 other ships, 500 naval vessels, and air fleet of 13,000 aircrafts certainly doesn't sound like a walk in a park to me. I'm worried about you, Phil. Do you actually have to go through this entire nightmare? _

Arnold repeated the said numbers and jolted it down on a piece of paper. "Number four…" he said, "an armada of3,000 landing crafts, 2,500 support ships, 500 naval vessels, and 13,000 aircrafts took part in the Normandy Invasion, the first day of D-Day."

_I hope that you will make it out alive, hale and hearty after this. I don't know whether this letter will reach your hands or not, but I will pray that it will. I hope that you're still alive when this letter reaches Europe. For you see, I have a confession to make. It's about you, actually. I have been harbored this feeling about you since grade school, but I was, and still afraid to let it out and say it to you. It has been haunting me to no end that it actually makes me want to kill myself just because I'm so gutless about it. But I keep strong, because of you. You're my biggest adversary and yet at the same time, are my biggest source of strength. You're my enemy, and yet you're my ally. You're an annoyance, but yet you're the person who I constantly look for guidance and advice._

_You're an oxymoron, Phil. I just don't understand how you managed to make yourself to be like you are now. You are one amazing person Phil. And because of these qualities of yours they make me feel all warm inside. All the scowls, hatred, loathe and bitterness about you was just a bad outburst which only purpose is to hide away my real feelings about you. Deep down inside me, lies a soft spot that actually harbors a nice, positive feeling about you._

_By now, you must've taken aback by all the stuff I wrote just now. All the things that I said are true and come straight from my heart. We've known each other since our childhood, and through this troubled times I would like to seize this opportunity to apologize for all the nasty things that I have said or done to you. Like I said earlier, I did it out of fear and dejection. Fear you ask? Well, to be very honest, I fear that you would reject my love towards you._

"Grandma's confession…"

_Yes… I am completely, deeply, madly in love with you._

_It took an insurmountable amount of strength just to write those simple words down, yet, its meaning delivers more power than any bombs and weapons could. Yes, my dearest Phil, I am in love with you ever since our eyes first met! It's only now that I finally have the guts to say it. I miss you ever since you left the city to join the army. From that moment on, I couldn't help but to think about you each and every night and day and constantly worrying about your welfare. Even before the war started I just can't stop thinking about you, my love. My only fear is that, after all these long, hard confessions that I made, you would snub my affections towards you. Oh, my dearest Phil…_

_Love,_

_Gertrude._

"They both have a lot of explaining to do after this…" Arnold said with a snicker. He put the letters down, and turned his head to the alarm clock. "4:30 in the afternoon… I guess it wouldn't hurt if I keep reading these letters and find more references." Arnold said with interest.

* * *

Chapter Six will be up after I'm done with my nap. Any mistakes please point it out. 


	6. Chapter 6: The Continuation

_Author's note: _My apologies if I sounded like your history teacher. Come on, look at the brightside, at least you get to learn something new :) And... oh yeah, this chapter contains some spoilers for the movie _Saving Private Ryan. _So, if you haven't watch it yet, I suggest you to do so.

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**Legal junk: I don't own Hey Arnold, but Nickelodeon does and Mr. Craig Bartlett created it. But this fic belongs to me. Clear? Good.**

Chapter 6: The Continuation.

_On the next day - nighttime…___

"Dad, if I may ask; why are you letting me watch this movie?" Arnold inquired to his father, who was watching _Saving Private Ryan_ with him.

"Well, I saw your assignment paper lying around the kitchen yesterday and I thought this movie would be a great help. 'Sides, I think you're old enough to handle this kind of movie."

_"So there's where I put it…"_

"But the movie is rated R." Arnold argued.

"You sound as if you never saw an R-rated movie before. C'mon Arnold, be honest with me. You have watched an R-rated movie before, haven't you?"

"Okay…" he nodded in defeat at Miles question, "I watched the _Friday the 13th_ movies when I was eight." Arnold said, which Miles replied with an "m-hmm…"

"And, when I was ten, I watched _The Exorcist_." Arnold continued, which made Miles' eyes wide in shock. "And there's that time I watched _Alien_…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa… _The Exorcist_?" Miles said in disbelief as he looked at his son incredulously. "And it didn't screw your brain? Who the heck gave you the permission to watch that movie anyway?"

"Well… nobody, actually. Gerald's brother dared us to watch that movie at night with the lights off. So, being two stupid kids we were back then, Gerald took the videotape from his dad's stash and we watched it together. Heh, we didn't sleep that night, and Jamie-O got grounded after that." Arnold chuckled at the memories.

"I guess that served all three of you right." Miles said with a snicker, and he watched the screen again. "Aw man, I love this movie. It has guns, explosives, bloodshed, limbs flying and most importantly, it's educational. It's a perfect father-son bonding movie!" he exclaimed.

"Dad, I think this movie wants us to respect the thousands of men that died that day, and to portray how brave these soldiers were."

"Okay, if you want a constructive and intelligent view about it. Plot wise, it's good, although it used the same recycled theme: a guy is lost somewhere in the haystack and they sent some other guys to find him. It has great character development and excellent acting, especially Tom Sizemore. The direction and cinematography deserves praise as well. Although it's not entirely historically accurate, but the sense of authenticity is there."

"Dad… you're droning. Let's just all be quiet and - try to enjoy the movie." Arnold said with a smile.

"Oh, okay. Sure, fine." Miles said back, but they never did kept quiet. If they were at the theatres, the ushers would've kicked them out from the building by now. Throughout the movie, they sometimes made comments on the one of the many interesting scenes in the movie, criticize some of the actors' acting and poked fun at the continuity. In the end, they thoroughly enjoyed the movie and they both agree that the movie was one of the best modern war movies yet.

"Arnold, could you please take the DVD out and put it on the table? I need to return it to the boarding house tomorrow."

"The boarding house? I thought you just bought it," he said as he ejected the tray.

"Actually this DVD belongs to grandpa."

"Since when does grandpa know how to play DVDs?"

"He doesn't. Remember two years ago on his birthday, I bought a DVD player for him?"

Arnold nodded. Miles continued, "He thought it was a newer version of the record player. So I explained to him, gave him the instruction manual and even bought this movie for him to test it out, but he still doesn't know how to use it. So the darn thing is a permanent staple of his living room, but seems like only the boarders are happy with it."

"Why did you pick _Saving Private Ryan_?" he asked as he put the DVD on the table.

"I thought he might appreciate modern realistic war movies, since he used with watching the old ones like his favorite, _The Bridge on the River Kwai_."

_"I think it's a bad idea, dad." _Arnold thought, as he remembered the D-Day letter that grandpa wrote to grandma. "Well, thanks for the history lessons, dad. Now I need to go back to my room and continue my research."

"You do that. And now, I want to enjoy the NHL." Miles said as he changed the channels. "Presidential debate?! They rescheduled the most important game of the season for this?! ARRRGGHH!!" he exploded disappointedly with his hands clenching.

As Arnold walked up past his parents' bedroom; he could hear her mother still on the phone.

"No, I don't think they should go out with each other. She should've dump him and go with her ex. They used to be so cute together." His mother said to someone through the phone.

"Must be an office gossip or something," Arnold muttered. "And a new record too. Three hours non-stop." Eventually, he arrived in his room, and closed the door behind him.

"Now where are the letters?" he said as he scanned the room. "Oh, there they are." They were on the study table. Although he had been flipping through the letters numerous times since yesterday, he still thought that the information he obtained was not enough. He took a seat and starts to read.

_July 4th 1944,_

_Dearest Gertrude,_

_I am fine. At least I think I am fine. I got shot in the butt, on my right leg and on my shoulder. But the worst one is at my shoulder; a bullet hit it, tore the flesh out, pierced through it and hit a guy behind me straight in the chest. I try not to think about that day again, since it really gives me nightmares. I am now in some city hall where they converted it into a temporary hospital. My wounds are healing just fine, and I'm expected to rejoin the frontlines again in the next couple of weeks. I just hope that the next time around, I'll be more careful._

_But thankfully, I can walk now, and my usual place to go around is at the theatre hall. Well, it's not a theatre hall per se; it used to be a meeting room that they converted it into a theatre. Almost everyone who's able to walk gather around here to watch movies that they brought from Hollywood. And each and every time, they either show a Clark Gable movie, or a Charlie Chaplin movie. Don't get me wrong, I love their movies, is just that I feel I rather want Bob Hope to entertain me at this time of the day. And I think I can't eat raspberry pies anymore - maybe forever, because the last five I had gave me the worst diarrhea I've ever had._

"Hmm, grandpa's reaction might be reflecting of other soldier's feelings post D-Day… so that's where his stomach got the raspberry rejection."

_Your last letter at first came to me as shock. I didn't know what to say. After all these years, you really do like me, and I being the foolish oblivious person I am, didn't even noticed it! How could I be so inconsiderate to your feelings? I apologize, whether intentionally or not, for any pain, suffering and torment I may have put you through. Your mail sure came fast; it's either the Postal Service is darn efficient nowadays or you just follow your feelings to write one before mine reaches your hands._

_As I lie on this little piece of bed in this dingy, morbid looking place, I try to reminisce and search my memories about you, and they are the sweetest thing that I can think of. Really, just by thinking of it I feel like it really makes my wounds heal faster. Hey, I know the years past that you never actually wanted to get along with me well, but when I think about all the things we've been through, I laugh. All your scorns, scowls and hatred actually are my sweet and fond memories._

_Your last letter changed my perception of you forever. All the years before, I could only speculate and guess about your real personality, but after that there is no denial about it. You are the most loveable, sweetest and the most caring person that I've ever met. I just hope that I will make it out alive from this war and hopefully I will see you again… my love._

"And finally grandpa acknowledges grandma's love. Aww, how sweet…" Arnold said with a smile.

_P/S: Happy Fourth of July!_

_Love,_

_Phil._

"Now where did I put the reply to this letter?" Arnold wondered, as he searched the table for the letter. It wasn't on it, so he went beneath the table and search for it, and finally he found it, stuck in between two cables. He grabbed it, sat back again leaning slouchy with his two legs on the table.

_July 27th 1944,_

_My sweetheart Phil,_

_Thank goodness, I am so relieved that you are alive! When it first came to my hands I actually ran to Marie's house and showed to her your letter! She was too relieved to hear the news of course, but she thought I was crazy because she had always thought I don't care much about you, let alone write letters to you. So I think the cat is out of the bag now, and I feel it is useless and futile to deny it anymore. I am in love with you, Phil. And when I received the letter that you sent a day before the Normandy Invasion, I was euphorically blissful to read that you actually like me from the beginning. I was also worried when you said that you're not going to make it, so in hoping for your safe return, I pray everyday so that you'll make it out alive. I guess my prayers have been answered, thankfully. _

"And I am thankful for that too, grandma," Arnold said, as if he was there with his grandmother.

_I am in dismay and disheartened to hear that you are wounded, Phil. I hope that the wounds are not as bad as I think it is and you will recover soon. But I believe by the time this letter reaches your hands, you're up and ready and healthy as a horse. I too also hope that this war will end soon, because I am so eager to see you again. I can't wait to see you again, my dearest Phil._

_I know entertainment is scarce there, so I thought I should tell you some stories that happened to me and to our friends to cheer you up. Remember the baseball match that I told you earlier? We won! Thanks to Diane, our team is going to the finals at Atlantic City. I don't want to follow them of course, as I have a job to do and an ailing mother to care of. Yesterday, Cindy actually got the 'privileges' to do the job that most of us at the shipyards dread , becoming the engine welder. I know you are going to be disappointed and all, but when I saw her covered in oil and grease from top to bottom, I laughed my head off. I know I've made peace with her, but what's wrong with old time's sake, huh? _

_I don't know whether your family has told you this, but your sister Mitzy came back home after nearly a year of disappointment living in New York. I met her at the diner, feeling forlorn and dejected. I asked her about her welfare, and I actually asked her about you. She said she was too embarrassed to return home to her family, and she didn't know anything about your whereabouts. So I told her almost everything what you've told me in your letters. Don't tell her that I'm telling this, she was actually proud of you. You were right all along about her, do so you wanna rub it in her face?_

_I am increasingly getting worried about my mother; the doctor said she is going to be fine, but I think otherwise. What's worse, she is becoming very weak and it is hard for me to take care of her and go to work at the same time. What's even more worse, my father is nowhere near here to help. I've called him and even wrote letters to him, but he didn't even respond. Can he be more neglectful than he is now?_

"Man… that's terrible…"

_My brother's last letter said he may come back home seeing that the military deemed him too physically unfit to rejoin the war, because he was heavily wounded from a battle he was engaging in. It's great to hear that he's coming back, if I might say so myself, and mother is happy to hear it too. _

_Well, that ends my letter, Phil. I hope that this letter brings comfort and ease your pain a little bit. Reply back to me as soon as possible, my dearest._

_P/S: I let Mitzy stay in my house for the time being. And as of now, she is contemplating whether she should work at the shipyards or not._

_Love,_

_Gertrude._

And Arnold smiled as he read the last paragraph. "Grandma sure had a change of heart."

* * *

And Chapter Six ends. Chapter Seven will be up when I'm done and satisfied with it. Any mistakes please point it out in the review.


	7. Chapter 7: The Continuation Part II

_Author's note:_ Yes, I can't think up a more creative name for the title. Here's Chapter 7, yet another continuation of this fanfic.

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**Legal junk: I don't own Hey Arnold, but Nickelodeon does and Mr. Craig Bartlett created it. But this fic belongs to me. Clear? Good.**

Chapter 7: The Continuation Part II 

Though he had read all the letters over and over, Arnold couldn't help but to go through them again repeatedly because almost of it was so interesting. Grandpa gave some very interesting and excellent points during the course of his stay in Europe, and grandma, being the informative person she was, did her best to explain to grandpa all the activities she made throughout the wartime period. But, he couldn't help but to notice that some of them were incredibly mushy and didn't have any significant points, so he put them aside and saved his notes for some the more important ones.

He sometimes wondered that whether he should continue on reading those letters, because he felt that he was, one way or another, invading his grandparents' privacy. But he shrugged it off. Grandpa had already told him that he was at liberty to use the letters as a reference, and he rightfully did so. There was one that caught his attention, namely this one – since it was about the Battle of the Bulge, which was the one where grandpa told him a bogus story that he single-handedly defeated the German Army.

_December 18th 1944,_

_Dearest Gertrude,_

_I am now in -------, somewhere in France I believe. Now it looks like not only the Germans are our enemy, but Mother Nature seems to have her share of contributing to our misery as well. It's very cold here, as the temperature reaches an all time low, in the minuses, I think. Still, I keep on going, even though this standoff is driving me crazy. Watching the frontlines is sure tedious; just imagine that you're looking at a blank space on end, in a foxhole that provides little cover, and in a freezing winter without any warm clothing. They said the supplies are coming eventually. I am hoping that what they're saying is true, so I can deliver this letter to you – not to mention I can finally get some real grub, rather than these stale rations I'm eating._

_Even though it has been months since D-Day, I still feel the stinging pain at my shoulder whenever I lift my arm up. It really annoys me and it really drags my concentration down because I'm minding the pain more than the frontlines itself. Before I got out from the hospital the doc said due to the wounds, I could head back to the States, but I rejected the offer. Now I'm feeling really stupid because I turned the offer down. Call me crazy, but I wish I could get shot again so I have a reason for them to send me back._

_Yesterday, the Captain said that they need a volunteer who is willing to go incognito to help them with a secret operation. Something about Cham delivery, I think. Nobody volunteered yet, and I myself am considering it… well, maybe I should go. Not that I running from the frontlines or anything, I just feel that I should go help something other than involving guns and shooting people. On the plus side, it's good to have a drive in French countryside and admire the beautiful landscape – and to forget about the war for a while. _

"Wow, so grandpa didn't lie at all. He _did_ deliver those bad Chams…" Arnold said believingly. "I wonder his story about that French girl and the barn house incident was also true…" he paused at his words, "nah…" he shrugged the validity off.

_I'm glad to hear that Mitzy finally decided to move back into the house and together with the family again. Mom must've been worried sick about her, because in my parents' letter they told me ever since she left home, she never writes to them at all. Even though I never care much about her wellbeing ever since that incident when we were kids, I'm glad that she's finally made the decision to come back home. Although we hate each other, she's my sister, we will always have that sibling bond of love, no matter how much loathsome and bitterness we have for each other. By the way, don't tell her that I wrote this._

_Keep writing to me my love, and pray for my safety. And I believe by the time this letter reaches your hands, Christmas is already over. So in closure, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year._

_With love,_

_Phil._

"It was a miracle that Grandpa got through that ordeal. What a guy." Arnold said to himself in amazement as he typed something on his computer. "Now where's the reply to this letter…" Arnold wondered as he searched the table. He found it near a stack of books.

_February 1st 1945,_

_Dearest Phil,_

_I'm sorry I didn't reply to you sooner. Last Christmas was the bleakest Christmas in my life ever because I received the news that I dreaded the most: my brother Craig was missing in action. We received the War Department's telegram just a day after Christmas, and just as soon as I informed my mother, she collapsed to the floor and she's now in Intensive Care at the hospital. The doctor said that she's going to be fine, but that's what they always say anyway. Dad got back when he learned that mom got admitted back to the hospital, but when dad found out that his only son was lost he was in utter disbelief. But only after I showed him the telegram, he finally caved in to the truth. _

"Man, it sure would be nice to get to know granduncle Craig, if he was still here today…"

_Somehow inside me I feel that he's still alive. He must've forgot to report back to his Captain or something. Knowing him, he can be so forgetful sometimes, and that's the only thing I can't stand about him. If he were captured and being held as prisoner, I hope our boys will come to his rescue and save him. I just hope my worst fear won't come true. Still, I won't give up hope. I know him better than anyone else, and believe me, he's going to come back._

_It has been nearly two months now since mom got admitted, but her condition has neither deteriorate nor improving. The doctor said that her illness seems to contribute to the pain as well. And I am very worried about her. I'm not surprised that the fact dad has been by her side all the time ever since she was admitted into the hospital. He must be cursing to himself on why he didn't get home earlier, even though I have called and wrote him many times to come back. Strangely, though I hate to admit, I do feel a little bit sorry him._

_Call me crazy too because back over here in the United States, things have gone very laid-back as of late. A year ago, we would've got fired if we were slacking off our job, but now, even the supervisor seems to slack from time to time and the warships aren't being ordered as much. Stores are promoting discounts, people are frolicking at the park and the streets, and the war news isn't' being updated as much as it used to. Are we winning? Is the war going to end soon? Will we be able to go about with our usual lives like before the war started and finally live in peace time?_

_I hope that it is and will be a realization, because I'm eager to see you again, my love. Again, I apologize for not replying to you sooner. I will pray for your safety Phil, and take it easy with the secret mission, and be safe!_

_Yours lovingly,_

_Gertrude._

Arnold yawned just as soon as he finished reading the letter. He looked at the alarm clock, "Holy crap, it's _way_ past my bedtime…" he put the letter down, saved his worksheet and switched the monitor off but let the computer on (He was downloading something). He then got up from his seat, stretched his body out and walked to his bed. He grabbed the remote from the shelf and turned the lights off. He placed the remote back again in its original place, closed his eyes and a few minutes later, he fell asleep.

He was at the very back of the landing craft, a small boat that looked like a roofless rectangular transport that could carry some 20 men in it. He could smell the seawater from the deck, the feel of the breezy wind rushing across his face, see the bleak, somber cloudy weather and hear the sounds of exploding shells at the shore and the boat's surroundings. There were also dozens of similar looking boats heading to the same destination – Omaha Beach; one of Normandy's landing points. Back again inside Arnold's boat, there were dozens of men in military gear in front of him, and all of them look extremely tense, worried and scared. It was either the boat ride or the fear that made some of them puke and vomited their guts out. He looked at himself, he was also wearing military garb and holding a rifle, wrapped in plastic. He gazed at the person next to him, who looked very familiar to him.

The person greeted him with a smile, "hey there, short-man. Fancy meeting you here." It was his grandfather, looking much younger, possibly in his twenties.

"Grandpa?" Arnold said quizzically.

"Darn tootin'. So you're in this predicament too, huh?"

He could only stare at his grandfather relentlessly. "I… I…"

"Hush now, the Captain is giving orders." His grandfather cut him off as he pointed to a person in the middle of the boat.

"Alright fellas, listen up. Just as soon as we land, I want all of you to find cover from the machine gun fire, but _do not_ scatter. Stay long enough to keep yourself alive, and wait for my orders soon after." The captain ordered, and most all of the soldiers nodded at it.

"Do as the Captain said, and you're going to get outta this alive, and steer clear away from the open unless you are ordered to storm the shingle. Keep the sand out of your weapons." The Sergeant interjected.

"See ya on the beach Arnold," grandpa said as he patted his back. Arnold could smile weakly and nervously at him.

"Ten seconds everyone!" the coxswain shouted. "May God be with you!" The engine throttled down and the boat slowed nearly to a halt. Everybody inside the boat was bracing for the worst. The whistle was blown, and the door opened and it made a way for the soldiers to storm the beach. But just as soon as the door opened, bullets started to rain the boat, killing almost every man at the front.

"TO THE SIDE!! JUMP!!" the Captain shouted immediately as he climbed the side of the boat and jumped into the sea.

"Whaddaya waiting for Arnold? Jump!" Grandpa said as he too jumped out from the landing craft. Arnold himself didn't know why, but he was too reluctant to follow him, as he looked at grandpa came back up to the surface and gasped for air.

"Come on, Arnold, jump!!" His grandfather shouted as he spitted some saltwater out from his mouth. But still Arnold stayed put.

"Arnold! _Arnold!!_ "

"Arnold…? Arnold?" a knock at the door was heard, with someone calling him.

Still feeling very sleepy, Arnold forced himself to wake up. The knock at the door was still there and the voice continuously called him.

_"Oh, man… it was just a dream…stupid movie."_

"Arnold? Son, wake up. Up and atom."

It sounded like his father. He sat at his bed for a while, staring at the floor blankly with his eyes nearly closed. He dabbed the shelf in searching for the remote, found it and turned the lights on. With the lights on and shining on him, he rubbed his eyes to make himself more alert. Woozily, he got up from his bed and walked over to the door to answer it.

"Dad…? It's…" he turned his head to the alarm clock, "…2:30 am in the morning. What's going on?" he said with eyes half-closed.

"I just got a call from the boarding house - grandpa's sick. We're going to the hospital." Miles replied worriedly.

Arnold was shocked, his eyes widened and he stared disbelievingly at his father.

"Oh no…"

* * *

Hmm... it's a cliffhanger! See you on the next chapter. And as always - if you see any mistakes, please point it out. 


	8. Chapter 8: The Visit

_Author's Note: _ Just want to say that this is a very bleak chapter.

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**Legal junk: I don't own Hey Arnold, but Nickelodeon does and Mr. Craig Bartlett created it. But this fic belongs to me. Clear? Good.**

Chapter 8: The Visit

"Where's Arnold?" Miles asked with an impatient tone. He and Stella were already in the car waiting for their son to show up.

"Honey, please be patient, he's probably in the bathroom getting ready." Stella replied with a calming voice to relax her husband. A moment later, the door to the back seat was opened. It was Arnold; he then jumped into the car and closed the door behind him. "I'm here."

"All right, is everyone ready? Because I'm not going to turn back once we're on the road." No word was spoken. "Good." Miles said in relief, and he proceeded to start the engine. The green sedan, which looked like a modern redesigned Packard that grandpa owned, pulled away onto the street and couple of blocks later, onto the main road. The road itself was quiet, with the exception of few cars zooming by and the street cleaning trucks doing their duties. Throughout the journey, none of them spoke to each other as they were each with their own thoughts. But nevertheless, all of them knew that they were concerned about Phil. Feeling that the mood inside the car was too stressed out, Arnold decided that he should do something to ease it up a little.

"Dad, don't worry too much about grandpa. He's gonna be fine. Even Dr. Steiglitz once said that grandpa is the healthiest man his age. Hopefully this is just some isolated incident."

"I know, I know. I'm just a little more concerned than I used to."

"Did your mom tell you anything why he got sick?" Stella asked him.

"No, she only told me that dad's sick and asked us to go to the hospital pronto. I got panicked, said that we're on our way and put the phone down. God, I should've asked her why." Miles shook his head in disbelief. The car sped onwards, only being stopped at the railroad crossing. As they waited for the train to cross, Arnold asked a question to his father, just to clear off his chest.

"Dad… did you know grandpa took part in D-Day?" both of his parents widened their eyes and turned their heads to Arnold.

"No…" Miles said disbelievingly. "Never once he told me that he took part in D-Day. You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

"I'm serious, in one of his letters he told grandma that he actually participated in Operation Overlord." He answered believingly. Are you sure he never once told you this before?" Arnold asked his father again.

"No… never…" he replied incredulously as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. _"Why did he want to keep it a secret?" _the train had finally crossed over the road and the gate risen up. Miles shifted the gear and continued their drive to the hospital. Upon arrival, Miles dropped Arnold and Stella at the front entrance and soon after that he drove to the parking lot. As Arnold and Stella entered the reception area, they saw the boarders, looking very stressful and melancholy.

"Oh, God… I'm so glad that you guys are finally here…" Suzie said with a relief as she hugged Stella. "Where's Miles?"

"He's finding a parking space. He'll come here soon." They then released each other's grasp.

"The hospital guys said that we can't come into the ward at this time of hour, unless you're a family member… stupid half-wits." Ernie explained irately.

"How did it happen?" Stella asked.

"We don't know. You see, Kokoshka here went down to the kitchen to have a midnight snack, but when he arrived there he saw gramps lying on the floor unconscious. It's lucky that we found him sooner, who knows what'll happen to him if nobody found out earlier."

"Yeah, I saved the old man, I'm a hero! Eh heh heh heh…" and everybody glared at him fumingly. "What? I just want to lighten the mood."

"Wait a minute… Suzie, who's minding the babies?" Stella asked her in a worrisome tone. "I brought them with me. I left them with Oskar… wait, Oskar, where are the girls?" she demanded.

"Uh… I was… I put them…" he stuttered nervously.

Angrily, Suzie stomped to him and grabbed him by his shirt collar violently, "WHERE. ARE. THE. GIRLS!?!!" she demanded an answer furiously through her clenching teeth.

"Uh… oh, hmm… OH, YEAH! I think left them at the seat near the vending machine." Said the negligent father as he tried to free himself from her clutches, "I'll – I'll be right back, d-don't worry about it." he said as he ran off to search for his daughters.

Suzie shook her head in disbelief and disappointment of her husband, "I swear to God, that man will be the death of me…" she said depressively as she rubbed her forehead.

After he felt that the whole fiasco was over, Arnold asked to them, "What does the doctor say?" in a worrisome voice.

"No… the doctor didn't say anything yet. They are diagnosing him right now." Mr. Hyunh interjected. Suddenly, Miles appeared from the front door. "I'm here," he said, panting, "Where's mom?"

"Grandma is with your pop – Third floor, room 203." Ernie informed him as he pointed to the elevators with his thumb, "We'll be right here, incase uh… if you need anything."

After saying thanks to Ernie; Miles, Stella and Arnold quickly made their way to the elevator so they could reach the third floor. The door opened, but the place was dimly lit as a part of the hospital's effort to conserve energy. As walked through the hallway, they turned their heads from side to side in searching for the said room. The room was at the end of the hallway, and upon entering, they saw grandma sat beside him, grasping grandpa's hand tightly as Dr. Murray Steiglitz attending him. Grandpa was lying in his bed unconscious with life support system monitoring him consistently.

"Stroke…" grandma said melancholically and brokenly to them as tears ran down from her eyes. The family stood aghast when they heard it. They then walked over to them with Miles hugging grandma to console her, whilst Stella and Arnold went to the side of the bed, looking at the vegetative grandpa, who was breathing weakly but in constant rhythm.

Calmly, Dr. Steiglitz pulled the stethoscope away from his ears and his hands away from examining Phil's chest. "His condition is stable," he said evenly. "I wouldn't worry about him much if I were you." He said assuredly to reaffirm that grandpa will be all right.

"Doctor…" Miles said after he swallowed poignantly, "please be honest…" he said in disbelief of him. With such heavyhearted and reluctance, he caved in into Miles' plea. "Phil is… weakening…" he finally said morosely, with his head lowered down. "I'm… I'm sorry."

Grandma was taken aback, but still unconvinced by his words and had faith about him getting well back. Grandma tried to compose herself and said to him, "I'm not saying that I don't believe you Murray… I still have hope… but could you let me stay by his side throughout the night? I mean… incase if he's awake, I-I… really need to be by his side…"

Dr. Steiglitz was moved, and agreed. Grandma gave him a weak smile as to thank him for being considerate. Slowly, Dr. Steiglitz walked out from the room, with Arnold accompanying him out. Outside the ward room, and after the door was closed, Arnold asked him to inquire about his grandfather.

"Dr. Steiglitz, I… I-I don't understand this… why? He was healthy and fit the day before… how come--"

Murray cut him off, "maybe it's just his time to go, Arnold. It's all a part of life's mystery." He said as he put his hand down on Arnold's shoulder. "Take the words of an old man such as myself…" he continued as he placed his other hand over his chest, to emphasize that the words came from his heart. Arnold was edging in tears as he looked down at his feet with his hands in his pockets, trying to compose himself. And after a while, Murray took his hand off slowly from him, and left him by himself as he walked away to the elevators with Arnold looked at him with gloom. Contemplated on his words, Arnold went back into the ward; and saw Miles tried to reason with his mother.

"Mom… I know you want to be by his side, but I think you should need some rest… please." He pleaded concernedly. "I'll be staying with him tonight."

"Oh, Miles…" she sobbed as she hugged his son tightly. Stella started to brim in tears and Arnold was moved at the affectionate display, and again he was nearly in tears. Gerthie then released him but still holding his shoulder, "You take care of your father, all right?" she implored to him with a broken voice. "And call me if he wakes up. I'll come back tomorrow, okay dear?" she informed as she rubbed her son's cheek.

"Come on, Gerthie. I'll drive you back to the boarding house." Her daughter-in-law cordially invited, as she wiped her tears away.

---

_Later that evening…_

"Thank God it's Friday." Stella said in relief to his son. They were both in Stella's car on their way to the hospital. Her car was a small, blue car imported from South Korea. The sun was on the very tip of the horizon, casting a dim orange sunlight onto the surface. It was beginning to rain too as small droplets of rain began to form on the windshield. The thundering clouds battled over the city against the glimmering sun, nearly cutting the light source, in what looked like a contra of Ying and Yang. To avoid the dreadful rush hour traffic, Stella had to drive through the old, narrow neighborhood street, which to the local people, was more convenient to take if there was a traffic jam or to cut through the city in less than approximate time expected.

"Dad actually took a day off to take care of grandpa?" Arnold asked her inquiringly.

Stella nodded at his question, "Yep, just so you know he is very concerned about him." she said as she concentrating on the road.

"Yeah…" he replied sheepishly. "Aren't we supposed to pick up grandma?"

"Your dad already took care of it. He's now at the hospital with her. By the way, about last morning – what was that all about?"

"Huh? About what?"

"You know, you said grandpa was in the Normandy Invasion. I was really shocked when I heard it because he never told anyone about it before. Why did you bring it up all of the sudden?"

"I don't know… it was really quiet in the car so I thought I should say something to ease the mood a little bit. 'Sides, it's nothing to be ashamed about. Grandpa fought bravely, and survived to tell the tale, and I'm proud of him."

"Well, you certainly weren't doing a great job easing us." She chuckled. "I want to know myself why grandpa keeps it a secret until now."

Arnold fell silent, smiling weakly as he gazed at the scenery outside the car as they drive by it. He probably had already known why.

"And why are you bringing those letters that grandpa gave to you?" she asked referring to a yellow binder that Arnold brought with him.

"You're telling me, I don't know myself!" he exclaimed. "Somehow, I just have a feeling that I should – no, must bring them to the hospital today."

"Well, suit yourself. Just don't ask me to carry it when you get tired of hauling it." She told him good-naturedly.

"I won't." he replied back. A momentary pause, "You think grandpa will be alright, mom?" he asked with a worrisome tone.

She contemplated for a moment to gain an answer, "I hope so. You said it yourself, grandpa is the strongest man his age. I'm sure he'll bounce back on his feet again eventually."

"You're right." He agreed doubtfully. "And I hope that the doctor is wrong and I'm right about grandpa…"

---

Arnold knocked the door to the ward room. A moment later, the door opened up, showing a tired Miles casting a weak smile of relief at them. He let them enter the room, which the son and the mother being upset and not surprised at grandpa's condition, which still was the same like last morning – in a comatose state. And like last morning, grandma sat next to her beloved husband, looking at him with concern as her frail hands clutching grandpa's hand tightly, in hoping for a miracle.

"Grandma?" Stella said as she walked over to her, "I brought some fruits with me. You can have them if you want." She said with a weak, beaming smile as she put the plastic bag carrying the fruits on the table nearby.

"You've been a dear," grandma finally responded.

Arnold on the other hand, stood next to his father who was sitting at a nearby chair. "Does grandpa show any signs of getting better?" he inquired.

With a sigh, Miles replied, "Unfortunately, no… Dr. Steiglitz said his condition still hasn't improving." He shook his head.

The whole room went silent again, with the exception of the heart monitor bleeps and sound of the raindrops thumping on the window, gradually becoming louder and louder. But wait… the bleep became fast, but still weak. Everybody turned their heads at grandpa. Miles got up and with Arnold joined the rest of the family at the bed. Grandpa's eyes opened up slowly, which drew delight and ray of hope from everyone. But, there was no room to celebrate right now, grandpa was still weak.

"Dad… dad?" Miles called him. "You're feeling right? You want some water? Want me to call the doctor for you?" he bombarded the questions. But then Miles gazed at grandpa's eyes and reading it, and felt grandpa didn't want any of those. Grandpa then saw Arnold, and smiled weakly at him. Arnold shot back a soft smile.

He tried to open his mouth, but could manage to say some coherent words to him, "You were right… short-man. There are no such… thing as… a family curse…" He said with a weak voice, alternating between light coughs. Then it hit him first, and then the rest of the family. They knew what grandpa meant by that. Arnold held back his tears, composed himself and said to him, "grandpa… please don't say that. You're going to be fine." He said assuredly, being the optimistic person he always is, although he already knew it was a false hope.

Grandpa snickered softly at him, reading his grandson like an open book. "Letters… bring them?"

Arnold nodded, "Read… the last one…" grandpa asked weakly. Quickly, Arnold dashed to his binder located near the chair Miles sat earlier. Grandma meanwhile, stroked his cheeks in gentle tenderness of love. Grandpa could only smile back because he was too weak to move. He then shifted his eyes to Miles and Stella, looking at them with a warm, calm smile. They were hesitent to return the smile back as they held back their tears, but they eventually did. Arnold came back, and read the last letter as to fulfill grandpa's last wish.

_"Thank God I followed my instincts…"_ he thought as he unfolded the last letter, and started to read it in a broken, sobbing voice.

_March 20th 1945,_

_Dearest Gertrude,_

_I'm back at the hospital again, after delivering those bad Chams. It wasn't an accident that caused all this, but rather, an unforeseen event that literally changed my life forever. I was captured by the enemy and being held as their prisoner of war. It was a hellish five days with them, until I got rescued by the boys from the Airborne Infantry. Thinking back, I am lucky to be alive. It was the bitterest experience for me and I hope that my child won't have to hear this story or any of my war stories from anyone else until the day I die._

Miles and Stella finally know why.

_But I learned something precious from the whole ordeal, that in the limited time we are given to live in this world, we need to appreciate each and every second of life. Which, I have decided to spend mine with you, my dearest. We have known each other very much, everything from our childhood to our present. And from the past three years, we've seemed to be connected more than just friends. You are the light that shines my day, the beautiful person who gives me joy, and your tender love that gives me a reason to live._

Arnold noticed that grandma's maiden name was blurry.

_Gertrude --------, will you marry me?_

Grandma let a tear rolled down her wrinkly cheeks from her eye when Arnold read that. Grandpa smiled at her reaction as he felt that grandma tighten her grip to his hand.

_Please give me an answer after I arrived home, which am going to depart back to the States this coming Saturday. And trust me - your house will be the first one that I will knock first. Heh, I don't know which will arrive first - me, or this letter._

_Love,_

_Phil._

Arnold wiped a tear out from his eye, folded the letter and put it in his breast pocket.

"I… love all of…" but grandpa stopped there, wheezing out a very weak, lengthy breath. A momentary pause from all of them.

"Grandpa…?"

"Phil…?"

* * *

... 


	9. Chapter 9: He was a Great Man

_Author's Note: _This is the final chapter for this fic, and also the longest one. Every movie and book have a great finale, and I hope this would tie up all the loose ends and will make you, the readers feel satisfied with this story.

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**Legal junk: I don't own Hey Arnold, but Nickelodeon does and Mr. Craig Bartlett created it. But this fic belongs to me. Clear? Good.**

Chapter 9: He was a great man

Grandpa Phil died peacefully of natural causes, leaving a widow and a married son. His family was at his side during his final moments. He died a few years earlier than the intended 'family curse' age of 91. By the next day everyone in the neighborhood had learned the sorrowful news of his death. Phone in the boarding house rang off the hook where close families, neighbors and family friends called to show their sadness and grief and to offer their condolences to the family of the dearly departed. Neighbors living near the boarding house came to comfort and console the family.

Meanwhile, the door to Mrs. Vitello flower shop was opened, and alerted the old woman who was watering the flowers to keep them fresh. The customer was Arnold, wearing mourning clothes, because the funeral was about to start in a couple of hours.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Vitello."

"Good afternoon, Arnold," she greeted back. "You're coming here to ask about the flowers aren't you? Don't worry about it, I've sent all the flowers to the funeral parlor myself."

"Well, thanks for telling me that, but I'm here to buy a few flowers, for… you... y-you know..." He informed, with a melancholic voice.

"All right… what any suggestions in particular?"

"Something nice, but at the same time it has to show sorrow and grievances."

"I think I have just the perfect one for that." She said with her pointing finger extended. "My goodness, all these preparations kind of reminds me when my husband Mike died a few years ago." She sighed wearily as she walked off from the counter to the flower displays.

_"Mike?" _Arnold thought incredulously.

"Uh… Mrs. Vitello, forgive me for asking this but, isn't Mike the person who you used to hate a lot?"

Mrs. Vitello was taken aback, she was slightly offended at the question, "I loved my husband very much, Arnold. Where did you get that idea anyhow?"

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Mrs. Vitello, but when I read my grandparents' letters they sent to each other back when they were in their 20's, I thought—"

Mrs. Vitello cut him off, letting out a soft chuckle, "hold on a second, you mean, the letters that they sent during World War Two?"

"Yes ma'am, I'm sorry if—"

"Oh, no apologies necessary, Arnold," she laughed, "Well, we all did pretty crazy things when we were young, and hating him was one of the stupidest thing I did." She said jovially. "You see, among our gang during that time, he was the crazy one. And I mean _crazy_. He always babbling incoherently to himself, did the silliest things like burying his head in the sand at the riverbank, and especially _love _to annoy the girls, and I was his favorite target. He had always thought that I was his girl, ever since when we were kids." She explained as she picked up some flowers as Arnold watched her.

"I thought he would never change, but during the war, something happened to him. Something radical. He became more mature, caring and compassionate, though his craziness was still there, but not as nutty as it used to be. He wrote to me a lot of letters, but I never read it until the final days into the war. The letters kept on coming, and I said to myself, 'what the heck,' and give 'em a try. Surprisingly, his words were moving, touching and extremely beautiful, something that I never expected from him. Then it hit me, he was the perfect man for me." She explained more as she cut the stems off the selected flowers.

"When I heard that he was coming back, I was ready for him. I quickly ran to the docks searching for him frenetically. Heh," she chuckled, "when I saw him, I practically flung myself into his hands, and him and I dropped onto the floor with me drowning him with smooches." She recalled back with a pleseant voice. "Then after a few months we got married and the rest, is just like what people always say, is history." She finished it with a smile as Arnold listened to her with keenness.

"That's very sweet, Mrs. Vitello." Arnold could only say with a soft smile as he took the flowers from her. "If you don't mind me asking, when did he… well, passed away?"

"Oh… yeah, you don't remember do you? You were just a little tot back then. He died some eleven years ago, back when you were just a toddler."

"I see. But... how come people still calls you Mrs. Vitello?" he inquired further, it was a question something he was meaning to ask her for quite some time.

"Well, Vitello is my family name. But you have to ask yourself, if one saw a large signboard outside my store with 'Vitello's Flower Shop' written on it, one should assume that the owner's name is Mrs. Vitello. And that's why honey, the name sticks." She informed with a smile. "Enough Twenty Questions, sweetie?" she asked sarcastically, but good-naturedly.

"Yeah… thanks Mrs. Vitello," Arnold said with a broad smile. "It's nice of you to share your stories with me."

"Don't mention it, dear. It's nice to have a youngin' such as yourself to hear stories from an old woman like me. Most people your age couldn't even bear a second of me reminiscing the good old days back when I was a youth." She said as she got back behind the counter again.

Arnold replied with a soft smile, "Are you coming to the funeral, Mrs. Vitello?" he said as he paid her.

"Of course I am. Your grandfather was a great man, and Gerthie is lucky to have a man like him."

---

Arnold walked away from the flower shop, thinking about his grandfather as he strolled along the sidewalk. After a while he stumbled upon Harvey, the neighborhood mail carrier.

"Hey, man," Harvey greeted, "sorry to hear about your grandpa. You're feeling all right?" he asked him.

"Yeah, just feeling a little sad about it, that's all." He replied, not emphasizing the word 'little'. "Say, where are you going?"

"I'm going back home to change man,. I am going to the funeral, you know."

"Thanks." Arnold replied with a soft smile. "You really like him, do you?"

"Oh, man, of course! He was like a father to me, Arnold. He was the one who encourage me to sing the blues, man. I owe a lot to him." He informed something that Arnold never knew before. A pause between them for a brief moment.

"Well, I should be going. I don't want them to wait."

"Same here. See you there, man."

_"Grandpa was such a great guy…"_

---

The weather was breezy, chilly and cloudy, setting a somber mood at the cemetery. It was like as if the world itself grieved of grandpa's passing. The funeral was attended by a lot of people with the numbers nearly in the hundreds. Arnold saw a great number of people who he never met before. Most of them were war veterans who fought alongside with his grandfather during the war, his grandparents' friends he never saw and distant family members he never met before.

But there were some faces that he recognized. Most astoundingly, even grandpa's arch nemesis Rex Smythe-Higgins and his Chinese Checkers rival Robby Fischer came to his funeral. Jimmy Kafka, his best friend, could be seen trying to hold back his tears. Dino Spimoni and Don Reynolds stood next to each other as they hung their head in mourning. The neighbors, Harvey, Marty Green, Dr. Murray Steiglitz, Mrs. Vitello, and even Arnold's grade school teacher Mr. Simmons and Principal Wartz showed up.

Some of Arnold's friend came, to honor a friend's grandfather. Surprisingly some of his friends' parents also came to the funeral. The Johanssens, Patakis, Lloyds, Hyerdahls, came to offer their last respect. Arnold was shocked to see Big Bob came, since he knew that neither grandpa and Bob liked each other, and both of them see each other as a nuisance and a pain in the neck. Maybe he was there vecause he wanted to honor his golf rival. The boarders were there as well. Ernie could be seen with his girlfriend Lola. Mr. Hyunh and Mai Hyunh came. Oskar was not in his tomfoolery self during the service, something that his wife Suzie appreciated. She was there too; but they didn't bring their babies along, because they left them at Suzie's cousin's place.

His twin sister Mitzy also came, looking very dejected as she listened to the minister. Miles tried not to show any emotions during the service, but Arnold knew that deep down, he was deeply saddened by the death of his father. Stella could be seen in deep sorrow with her head lowered down. And grandma, she neither wailed nor looking forlornly, but she sat down quietly, listening to every word that the minister said. Arnold could see her muttered some words, prayers maybe, as she looked down at the casket with deep melancholy. Arnold himself tried to be just as tough as his father, but he couldn't, and he broke down weeping. Phil was just as much as a father figure to him as his own father today. He promised himself that he will never forget all the things that grandpa told him, the advices he listened from him and sacrifices that grandpa made to raise him when his parents were gone.

After the service was over, he couldn't believe his ears, the so called 'arch nemesis' and 'bitter rival' did not say any ill words about him. And everywhere he went he heard nothing but words of praise and fond memories from the mourners about his grandfather. Not once he heard words of resentment about him. He then walked to his group of friends, as they were talking amongst themselves. When Arnold arrived, they offered their sincerest condolences to him and to his family. After the funeral, a few of them gathered at the boarding house to reminisce and recall their stories about grandpa. Each and every one of them had their own stories to share.

"And he said to me 'don't you have anything that would make that anaconda of yours jolt a bit?' and I finally remembered something, thanks to him." Miles told the crowd in an enthusiastic voice, "Larry, that anaconda of mine loved this record called _'Mating Hisses of the Female Anaconda'_ so I played over the school P.A. system and not a minute too soon, Larry came crawling back to me!" he ended it with a laugh, and the crowd laughed with him.

Grandma could be seen smiling softly as each of the guests recalled their fond memories with Phil.

"There's this one time when me and Phil along with the boys went for a road trip to Washington, since its Veterans Day and all." Martin Johanssen told, "We were exchanging war stories, when all of the sudden he was about to tell us about the time he went to a farmhouse—"

"Oh yeah, that story!" an old man intervened, presumably grandpa's friend, "When we were at the frontlines, he always bragged to us about that!" the old man said with a laughter, and some of the the war vets laughed with him.

And Martin continued, "as he was about to tell me about the 'good stuff' he had with that French girl - I quickly cut him off because the kids were at the back!" and the crowd laughed. "I mean really, was he going to tell such a sultry story with nine year old kids at the back?!" he smiled as he shook his head. "It's crazy!"

"I remember the time when we were guarding the frontlines," yet another old man said, "it was very cold, Christmas was just around the corner, and all of us were very weary and dispirited. Out of nowhere, Phil suddenly started to sing a Christmas Carol." Which drew a few chuckles from the crowd, "The captain ordered him to shut up, but he didn't and he kept on singing. And then, one of us started to follow him. And the other one followed suit. Then another, and another. Soon the entire platoon started to sing! The Captain shook his head, gave up and he too joined us!" the crowd laughed at the humorous story. "Somehow, it lifted our spirits!"

Arnold was standing at the corner with his arms crossed over his chest, laughing softly at the stories. He then scanned around the room, and saw Gerald sitting alone on a couch as he flipped an old photo album. He decided to join in. "Hey, Gerald. Thanks for coming."

"Don't mention it, man. This is the least I could do to show some respect to your grandpa." Gerald replied as he patted Arnold's back softly.

Arnold replied to him with a smile, and said to him, "what are you looking at?"

"Your grandparents' photo album. I saw this one lying on the coffee table, so I thought 'why not'?" he shrugged.

"Oh, man… just look at them, happy as a clown." Arnold said referring to a picture of grandpa doing a grappling maneuver to his friend. "And this one," Gerald pointed to another picture, with two young women hugging each other as they looked at the camera euphorically, with the word 'Best Friends' written below it. Arnold could assume that it was a picture of his grandma and her late friend Margaret.

"Hey, here's another picture of grandma, look." Arnold said, referring to a picture with a note written below it – 'Me and the gals of the Mechanics Division, 1944.' The picture had grandma with a group of unidentified women, in their mechanics uniform covered with grease. "Man, your grandma sure was attractive when she was young." Gerald said with a smile. Arnold couldn't believe his ears as he snickered softly to Gerald's comment. "Jeez man, you're creeping me out." He said as he playfully jabbed Gerald's shoulder.

Gerald laughed at the reaction, "Hey, look at this one, 'Me and the gang – 1939.'" Gerald pointed to a picture of a group shot of grandpa and grandpa and the rest of their friends. The label below read, 'Bottom row, left to right: Phil, Jimmy, Will and Mike. Middle row, left to right: James, Craig, and Robby. Top row, left to right: Mitzy, me(Gerthie), Margaret, Mae, Diane, Cindy, Lisa and Marie.'

"They sure were happy." Arnold said with a soft smile.

"Yeah… it sure would be cool to hang out with them." Gerald responded.

Arnold nodded in agreement, "I wonder what would happen to us 60, 70 years from now… what would we be like?" both of the boys paused at the thought of them being old. They could see themselves, along with the rest of their gang getting old.

"I'm sure we'd be all like:" Gerald continued with his best old man imitation, "yelling at kids to get off our lawns and drink prune juice all day." Arnold started to laugh. Gerald carried on, "and we'd hang out at parks and play checkers all day while the girls sit on the bench feeding the birds!" And they both had a hearty laugh.

"Making fun of us old timers, huh, sonny boy?" someone suddenly intervened. Arnold and Gerald abruptly stopped laughing and looked that direction that the voice originated. It was grandpa's best friend Jimmy Kafka.

He continued, "Well, we used to be like that too back when we were your age. There was this one guy – can't remember his name, sadly, we used to call him Old Man Spittoon, or something along that line. To us, he was the grouchiest – give me some space to sit, son," he asked, and Arnold moved to the side next to Gerald. "- The grouchiest, meanest, most evil old man on the planet." He said as he sat down.

"Uh… Mr. Kafka, grandpa already told me about it. It was the time when he went straight to his eyes and said to him 'why do you always be so mean?' wasn't it?" Arnold informed him.

"Oh… he did tell you, didn't he? He was quite a storyteller I give you that."

"Yeah… he was. Say, Mr. Kafka, do you know anything about what happened to my grandma's brother?"

"What, you mean, Craig? Hoo-boy, there's a lot of rumors, stories and legends surrounding that guy let me tell you that! We don't know what exactly happened to him because the official report said that he was MIA (missing in action), but rumors says that when he was in France, he met this gorgeous French broad and decided to get married with her, and now he owns one of the largest grapeyard in Europe. Some said he went to the Vatican and become the Pope's aid. Some even said that he was the one who killed Hitler himself!"

Arnold and Gerald were in shock, as they darted back slightly, "but they were just rumors." He continued, "so think nothing of it."

"Oh yeah," Jimmy said as he snapped his fingers, "Have you heard what really happened to your grandpa during the Cham incident, Arnold? I know I've made a promise to him, but since he has passed away, I think his grandson might appreciate if I tell this story to him now."

Arnold was surprised, contemplated on the offer for a while, and said to him, "What actually happened?" Gerald was eager to know himself.

"Well…" he replied as he took his pipe out, "do you have a light? Matches, maybe?"

"Uh… we don't smoke sir," Arnold replied nonchalantly.

"Really?" he asked doubtingly, "then those teen anti-smoking advertisements campaign on TV must be working then." He turned his head to the crowd, "Hey, Robby! Toss me your matchbox, will ya!" he yelled, and Robby threw to him the mentioned box. He caught it.

"You boys don't mind if I smoke, do you?" Jimmy asked, and both of the boys shook their head. "No sir, we don't mind." Gerald replied.

"Call me Jimmy." He puffed out a smoke, "You see, during the Battle of the Bulge, he was ordered to deliver this truck full of bad Chams to the Germans. The plan was to have him disguised as a German supply truck driver so he could deliver these rotten foods to them. We believe that after the Germans ate them, they'd get all sick and hopefully, will retreat from the frontlines. And thankfully, the plan worked like clockwork." He puffed yet another smoke out.

"But your grandpa screwed up, because he accidentally spoke English to the German Captain. He was then arrested after they learned that he was a US soldier, but damage had been done: _all _the German infantry had ate all the bad Chams. So on the next day, they were all sick as dogs. They made a haste retreat, but they brought your grandpa with them. They put him in a POW (Prisoner of War) camp, gave him no food and drinks and was tortured all day and night." Jimmy started to slow down a bit, as he hung his head in sadness. "He… he…" Jimmy started to sob, "…was _tortured_ son! They punched him, kicked him, shot his limbs, left him out in the cold, stabbed him…" a tear started to form in his eyes and his hands were visibly shaken, "just because he wouldn't tell those S.O.Bs our battle strategy… you just couldn't imagine how did he look like when we finally rescued him..." he sobbed morosely as he wiped the tears off his eyes, as Arnold and Gerald listened to him in deep grief as well in enthusiasm. "It was a wonder how did that man managed to stay alive..."

Jimmy composed himself for a while, pausing for a momentary break. After he had pulled himself together, he continued, "And because of him, we won the Battle of the Bulge. If he had submitted to them, the war would've taken much longer to be over. And that's why we honor him by claiming him to 'Single handedly won the Battle of the Bulge,' even though he didn't want the honor to be bestowed upon him, since he felt that everyone had their own role to win that war." He then placed his hand on Arnold's shoulder, "be proud of your grandpa, Arnold."

Arnold nodded weakly, proud of his grandfather, "I am." he said softly to Jimmy. Jimmy shot him a smile back and said to him, "Now, lets just hear what the crowd has to say about your gramps. I believe the only thing that they have are a lot good things to say about him."

Arnold, Gerald and Jimmy turned their heads at the crowd, and saw Miles again telling a story, "...and during the graduation day, when I took the scroll, I looked at my dad and saw him, he was _extremely_ proud of me. I achieved something that he always wanted me to become, a university graduate."

---

That night, Arnold felt that he wanted to sleep in the boarding house in his old room. No particular reason, he just wanted to because he _felt_ like it. Probably there was a reason of some sort, maybe by staying there he would remember the time when he was a boy, grandpa always came to him to say good night and tell him stories about his parents. Or maybe he wanted to take care of his grandmother. Either case may be, there was no objection from grandma or his parents, so he made a decision to stay at the boarding house for a night.

He was sitting on his old bed, looking at an album with some pictures of him with his grandfather. He smiled and chuckled at every picture on every page as he flipped them over and over. He cherished all those fond memories he had with him, like the time when he went fishing with him, or the time he watched Sally's Comet with him, alongside Gerald. Never forget the time he and Gerald went camping with him, and the time grandpa brought him to a horse ranch when he was just a kindergartener.

It was nearly his bedtime, but Arnold was still awake, proofreading his history assignment. He had yet to name his history project. What name would be perfect, he thought. Most of his report was based on grandpa's view, and an idea finally struck him. He shall name the report:

_World War Two: From a Soldier's Perspective._

_Based upon my grandfather's writings during his service in the army.___

Yeah, that's what he would name it. Simple and straightforward. But he felt that it was not enough, he wanted to add more. How about a tribute? Yes, that's what he'd do.

_To my Grandfather Phil: Who was a patriot, a countryman, a family man, a caring husband, father and grandfather._

He held his assignment paper and gazed at it. It was finally complete, and he smiled at the work well done. It was a school night, and without wasting any more time, he put his assignment paper into his bag pack. After he stretched his body out and done yawning, he walked to the light switch located at nearby the door. The remote gone into obscurity. Just as he was about to switch off the lights, he gazed at the brightly twinkling stars through the skylight. It was beautiful, as he could see the constelation alignment very well and the sky were almost filled with stars. Arnold smiled at the magnificent view and said,

"Thanks for all the memories, grandpa."

And he switched the lights off.

**THE END**

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Fin. Any mistakes and errors please point it out. I'd like to thank all the people who submitted their reviews and enjoyed reading this fanfic. I really appreciate each and every one of them, and I used the comments to further improve my writings. I really wanted to write a bibliography and credits, but I think the guidelines won't allow me to do that. 


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